


These Inconvenient Fireworks

by CouldntBeDamned



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), All Penguins Are Valid, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Come Marking, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endgame? I don't know her, Eventual Smut, Fireworks, Fourth of July, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, Harley Keener is Something Else, Kamar-Taj (Marvel), Kate Bishop is Here for the Drama, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Morgan Stark is a genius, Morgan is Tony's Secret Weapon, Netflix and Chill, Oral Sex, POV Stephen Strange, Penguins, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Stands Up For Himself, Peter Parker is 18, Relationship Discussions, Sharon Carter Loves Burgers, Shower Sex, Stephen Approves (In This Case), Stephen Strange & Wong Friendship, Stephen Strange Drinks His Respect May Parker Juice, Stephen is a Doctor. Don't Forget That., Sweet & Filthy, Team Bonding, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Tony Stark Has Issues, Using Words to Discuss Feelings, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, Wong is a Good Bro (Marvel), Worried Ned Leeds, back to school shopping, memory sharing, smitten Stephen Strange, spitting, worried MJ
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CouldntBeDamned/pseuds/CouldntBeDamned
Summary: After a battle, Mr. Stark crosses a line with Peter.  Peter, tired of being on the receiving end of Mr. Stark's anger, asks Stephen - who's witnessed everything - to take him away.  In doing so, Stephen starts down a path with Peter he didn't see coming.Alternatively: Peter's heart gets broken and Stephen helps put it back together.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Stephen Strange
Comments: 189
Kudos: 420





	1. Chapter 1

**1.**

* * *

Stephen was pretty sure it was a moment he wasn’t supposed to witness. But Tony had never been good at waiting for the right moment, so he was hanging back, heart breaking right along with Peter’s.

“I can’t believe you’d be so irresponsible!” Tony was ranting. “Wait, no, I actually _can_ believe it! Because that’s you in a nutshell, isn’t it? You have to go charging in, not asking for backup, and risk the lives of countless other people all in a sad, desperate bid to be a hero.”

Peter looked like Tony was actually hitting him, not just destroying him verbally.

“Tony, I really don’t think-” Stephen started.

“Stay out of this, Miracle Max!” Tony snapped, not taking his attention from Peter. “What is your deal, Kid? Do you _want_ to get people killed? Was your uncle not enough?” Tony bit out.

Peter actually stumbled back at that. Stephen could see the tears welling up in his eyes. Similarly, Tony’s face paled as he realized what he’d just said.

“Shit, Kid, I didn’t mean that,” Tony said. “I-I’m sorry, that was out of line.”

“No, no you’re right,” Peter said quietly. “I’m not a hero. I’m just a stupid kid who gets in over his head.” He looked up at Tony. “You should have just let me stay dead.”

“Peter, I’m sorry!” Tony said urgently. “Don’t talk that way, c-”

But Peter had disengaged the suit. He slipped out of it, completely unembarrassed at the scant undergarment he was wearing. He walked over to Stephen and Cloak flew off of his shoulders to cover Peter. “Can you take me home?” he asked. “With that hand-wavy thing?”

“Kid, come back,” Tony said. “Put the suit back on and we’ll talk about this, okay?”

Peter didn’t even look back at him. “Please, Dr. Strange?”

“Kid, c’mon. Don’t stomp off in a fit. Let’s be adults about this, alright?”

Peter didn’t answer. “Please,” he asked again.

Stephen nodded and created a portal for the both of them. The last thing he saw was a devastated Tony Stark. _Good,_ he thought. Peter hadn’t deserved that dressing-down, not when the alternative to springing to action was to just stand back and guarantee civilians died.

Peter was confused when they stepped through the portal and he saw that they weren’t at his apartment. “This isn’t home,” he said.

“No, this is the Sanctum, _my_ home. I figured that if you want distance from Stark right now, this is a harder place to find you than your apartment,” Stephen said. “Let me get some robes for you.”

He reached into a small portal to his side and pulled his hand back with a set of robes. He tossed them to Peter, and it was a sign of how distraught the boy was that he didn’t catch them; they fell to the floor.

“Sorry,” he said, crouching down to pick them up. “I’m just out of it.”

“I can imagine,” Stephen said. “What happened wasn’t your fault. I saw the footage before I arrived. If you hadn’t sprang into action as quickly as you did a lot of people would have been killed.”

“People still got hurt,” Peter said. He pulled on the pants, which were shrinking to fit him. “I wasn’t good enough and people got hurt.”

“Broken limbs, cuts, and scratches are a lot better than dying,” Stephen reminded him. “Why didn’t you call for help?”

“I did,” Peter said, shrugging on the top. It also shrank until it was the right size. “I asked Karen to contact Mr. Stark. I really did! But she said he couldn’t be reached. Something about a ‘I’m Busy Working, Shoo Protocol’.”

“Did you try to reach the other Avengers?”

“I don’t have access to them,” Peter said. He tied the sash around his waist. “It’s the ‘Don’t Be A Pest Protocol’.”

 _Jesus, Stark’s an asshole,_ Stephen thought.

“He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that,” he said. Not that what Stark had done had been speaking. It had been more like yelling and verbal evisceration.

Peter shrugged. “It’s not the first time. Fool me once, I guess.”

He was a little bit broken, Stephen realized. He hadn’t even tried to make his case to Stark, had just let the man beat him down with words, which told him that Peter, on some level, was thinking the same things he was being accused of.

He ordered in from a local Italian place. Peter managed to eat a full family-sized course of bread, salad, lasagna, and tiramisu. (“I’m always hungry,” he said. “But food’s expensive so I leave any leftovers for Aunt May.”) Stephen himself only ate a regular-sized entree of shrimp scampi. Peter yawned throughout dinner, so Stephen accepted that they’d have to talk more in the morning.

He got Peter settled in a room and helped the boy into a dreamless sleep. (“Can you stay, just for a bit?” “Of course.”) The last thing Peter needed was to get caught in nightmares, especially in a place as magically charged as the Sanctum. He watched him sleep, couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he looked when he wasn’t feeling the weight of the world.

He remembered watching Peter die in the one timeline that played out their victory. Stephen had been able to all but erase the millions of other timelines from his memory. Except for the winning one… Peter had felt death coming for him. It had _hurt_ him, feeling it. But he’d fought against it as hard as he could, as long as could, had begged not to go. He’d _apologized,_ as if any of it was his fault.

Peter deserved so much better than what he’d been given.

It was a couple hours later when he heard knocking at the door to the Sanctum. He told Cloak to stay with Peter and went down to see who was at the door. He was pretty sure it would be Stark, but he was wrong on the rare occasion.

It was Stark. He looked like hell, and he was carrying a bag.

He opened the door and let the man inside. “You’re here late,” he said.

“Yeah, listen. I went to go talk to Peter and he’s missing. He doesn’t have his phone on him, either,” Stark explained. “Any abracadabra sparkles you can do to help me find him?”

“That’s not going to be necessary. He’s upstairs, sleeping.”

“Oh. Good. That’s uh, that’s good. How was he?”

“Tired, hungry. Mild case of self-loathing.” He found his temper rising.

“Jesus Christ,” Stark said. “I know I was out of line, earlier, okay?”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Stephen felt like he could lay the man out. “Did you even review the footage of that fight? Peter did the only thing he could have done. If he hadn’t, people _would_ have died, not just been injured.”

“Yeah, I get that now, I-”

“He tried to call you for help. But apparently you had a protocol in place that kept his AI from reaching you. And in case you’re thinking he could have at least called the others, he can’t. Because you created a protocol to keep him from pestering them. And then you had the nerve to yell at him.”

“I know all of that, now,” Stark admitted. “I disabled those protocols as soon as I got back to the Tower. It was my fault.”

“Imagine that,” Stephen said dryly. He couldn’t help it.

“Is there any way I can speak with him?” Stark asked, ignoring Stephen’s remark. He held up the bag he was carrying. “I need to give him his suit back.”

“You want me to wake him just so you can try to alleviate your guilty conscious?” Stephen asked incredulously.

“Okay, then can I stop by with this, tomorrow morning?” Stark was persistent, he’d give him that.

“That will be entirely up to Peter,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”

He sent a portal around the man, removing him from the Sanctum and placing him back out on the street. He could have just asked Stark to leave, but his patience was pretty much used up. 

He locked the front doors with a wave of his hand and went back up to Peter’s room. The boy was still sleeping, dreamless and peaceful. Cloak had covered him, collar gently stroking Peter’s cheek.

“Can you watch him for the night?” Stephen asked.

Cloak gave him an offended type of motion.

“I knew I could count on you.”

He retired to his own bedroom, exhausted from the events of the day. He wasn’t sure what the following day would bring, but he’d follow Peter’s lead. Before he fell asleep, he sent his astral form to check for books on mystical armor. It wasn't his best habit, but it sure was effective.

He woke up at the feeling of something smacking him across the face. It was Cloak, urging him to get out of bed.

“Is Peter awake?” he asked, standing up and stretching.

Cloak nodded and with a groan, Stephen pulled on a robe, carefully hung the Eye around his neck, and let himself be led. Peter was in the kitchen and Stephen could smell the coffee brewing.

“Did you sleep well?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah! Better than I’ve slept since the spider bite, actually. It’s hard to fall asleep sometimes; I can hear every single thing for a pretty large radius. And now, when I do sleep, I get nightmares about that day on Titan.”

“I’m sorry that there wasn’t another way,” Stephen said.

“I’m not,” Peter contested. “Really. I’ll be fine, eventually. It’s just that sometimes it’s hard to turn off, you know?”

He did know. His nightmares didn’t come from Titan or the last battle with Thanos. They came from his car sliding off the road, sinking him into ice cold water, helpless. They came from another dimension, using looped time resulting in his death millions of billions of times as he bargained for the fate of Earth.

“I have some meditations that might help you.”

“Really?” Peter perked up. “That would be great. I feel so bad when I accidentally wake up May in the middle of the night because of them. She works hard enough as it is.”

“She’s a lovely woman,” Stephen said. “Now, what do you want for breakfast?”

“Oh, I’m fine with toast. Maybe some peanut butter,” Peter said. He looked away from Stephen and he remembered what Peter told him the previous night. _I’m always hungry, but food’s expensive…_

“Do you think you could settle for French toast and bacon?” Stephen asked.

Peter looked at him, almost scolding. “You don’t have to worry about feeding me, really, it’s fine.”

“I’m not worried about it at all,” Stephen said. “Now, is French toast and bacon okay, or is your heart set on toast with peanut butter?”

“Yeah, that first option,” Peter said. “It actually sounds great.”

“Then go get cleaned up. I’ll have Cloak get another set of robes for you. Breakfast will be done when you come down,” Stephen instructed.

Peter bounced away and Stephen set about gathering the ingredients he needed. He was ever grateful to Wong and whatever student Wong assigned to ensure that the New York Sanctum was always fully stocked. (He forgot to grocery shop a few times and suddenly he was “incapable of looking after himself.”)

He made the mixture for the bread and broke some more eggs on the side. If he was going to feed Peter, he was going to do it right. The boy already had a list of things to worry about, like choosing a college, his aunt, and saving the world; his next meal shouldn’t be on that list. He went ahead and paused time so he could finish cooking, as well as drink a few cups of coffee before Peter returned. He was going to need to be wide awake when he read through the notes his astral self had written throughout the night.

He unpaused time and was just putting the finishing touches on the eggs when Peter walked in, hair damp and curly and wearing a set of dark blue robes that… that made him look far more attractive than Stephen should have found.

“Have a seat. More coffee?” he asked.

Peter shook his head but sat. “No, I don’t drink much coffee. It does weird things to me because of the spider bite. I made it for you,” he said.

Stephen’s heart gave a little flutter.

He shouldn’t have been so moved. It was just coffee. And Peter was… Peter was vulnerable, and Stephen was probably a safe figure in his mind. He couldn’t abuse that trust. He needed to be the adult, keep himself in line. Even if his thoughts were a very different kind of adult.

“Thank you.” Stephen busied himself plating everything and sent it over to the table. Milk, orange juice, and maple syrup joined the plates. Then he poured himself another cup of coffee, because he was going to need it.

They ate in relative silence. Stephen’s mind was racing; he was eager to get into his notes. And he still had to tell Peter that Stark dropped by, because he couldn’t very well hide something so important from him. Even if he’d rather Peter stay far, far away from Stark for his own good.

“Tony stopped by, last night. He was worried you’d gone missing, when he didn’t find you at home.” Better to get it all out. “He wants to talk to you. He mentioned maybe stopping by today, to give you the suit back.”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t want to see him. And I don’t really want anything from him, either.”

“Are you sure?” He had his problems with Stark, sure. And he didn’t want Peter to get hurt. But still…

“Yeah. I’ve thought about it. And he’s never going to see me as anything other than a fifteen-year-old kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing. Which means he’s never going to treat me any differently, either. But I _do_ know what I’m doing. I _do_ help people. I’m not as big time as the Avengers, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less than them.”

“I just don’t want you to cut someone out of your life in anger.”

“You were there,” Peter said. “You heard the things he said.”

He had been there, he had heard.

“The first time something like this happened, it was like no one was listening to me. I could never get a hold of Mr. Stark and he never acknowledged any messages or reports I sent him. I did what I thought was right, and it was reckless, and I get that. I do. But I had no way of knowing he’d actually done something to help.”

Peter drained his glass of juice and Stephen very deliberately did not watch the way his throat moved as he swallowed.

“And this time… I tried to ask for help and I couldn’t, because he wouldn’t let me. What kind of mentor repeatedly sets their protégé up to fail?” Peter’s voice was a little shaky. He wasn’t as confident as he was trying to convince himself he was.

“No kind of mentor at all,” Stephen said.

He’d had his share of mentors. From graduate students in his early days of medical school to the first attending physician he’d had as a young, stupid intern convinced he knew everything. Then there were the old school guard and the radicals he’d sought out as he’d advanced in his career. He even had Wong. (He would never admit it to the man, though. Wong would be insufferable with that knowledge. Hell, Wong probably already knew, damn his luck.)

“I guess I feel like if I don’t stand my ground on this, I’d just be giving him permission to do it again.”

“That’s very wise of you,” Stephen said. He was impressed, he really was.

“You don’t think I’m being overly dramatic?”

“No. If anything, you’re underplaying it,” Stephen told him. “Apologies are usually pretty meaningless unless actions change.”

Peter shrugged. “He didn’t actually like, ever really say he was sorry, that first time. It was implied, because he’d made me a new suit and asked me to join the Avengers properly, but there was never a ‘Peter, I’m sorry.’ out of him.”

In a terrible way, Stephen got it. He had used to be like that. He’d never apologized if he hadn’t had to, or he’d given the “I’m sorry you misinterpreted x” type of non-apology. Stark had actually said “I’m sorry,” when Peter asked Stephen to take him home, so maybe he was trying to be better about meeting the bare minimum standards of ‘decent human being’ as well.

“Why did you say no?” Stephen asked. The boy _was_ an Avenger, in all but name, so why say no?

“You know my spider-sense thing?”

Stephen nodded. He could recall the examples of it he’d witnessed in his timeline scrying.

“It wasn’t going off at the offer, but it wasn’t giving me warm and fuzzies, either. And I would have had to sign the Accords, and I can’t do that. I can’t give up my identity or wear a tracker bracelet.”

Stephen didn’t disagree with Peter’s logic on that. “I read them. They were garbage.”

Peter snorted.

“Is there anything you need?” Stephen asked. After all, he’d portaled them there post-battle and Peter had had nothing but what looked like a speedo on his person. (Thank the multiverse for his photographic memory.)

“Um, can I borrow your phone so I can call Aunt May? I don’t want her freaking out.”

“Sure,” Stephen said. Easy enough. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“I don’t know yet,” Peter said after a minute of thinking on it. “I can probably tell you after I talk to Aunt May.”

Finished with breakfast, Stephen started clearing his part of the table. Peter was still eating, much slower than the night before. “More?” At the boy’s nod, Stephen made some more of the toast and set it aside. “I have to work on some things in my study. Cloak will help you find me when you need me, okay?”

“Yeah, that will work,” he said.

Stephen left his phone for Peter and after a quick shower and change of clothes, made his way to his study.

His astral self had been busy, he thought as he reviewed the pages and pages of notes. Very, very busy. His astral self was also a genius.

It would be tricky, but it was certainly doable.

“Dr. Strange?”

Stephen looked up. Peter was standing in the doorway, phone in hand. He motioned the boy in.

“Yes?”

“Aunt May’s picked up more shifts this weekend, and she’s actually hoping I can stay here until Sunday.” He held out the phone, cheeks flushed.

Stephen took it. “Hello, Mrs. Parker.”

May was apologetic about the entire affair, but he reassured her that he had no problem keeping an eye on Peter for the weekend. “It’s my pleasure. You’re very welcome, Mrs. Parker.”

He handed the phone back to Peter. “Okay. Yeah, yeah, I won’t. Yes, I’ll make sure of it. Okay. I love you, too. Bye.”

“It’s not every day I get to play babysitter,” Stephen said, when Peter ended the call.

“I am so sor-”

“I’m just teasing,” he told him, before Peter did his best attempt at dying from embarrassment. “I don’t mind, really.”

“She worries,” Peter said anyway. “She always has.”

“Is there anything you need from the apartment?” Stephen asked.

“Uh, my phone, I guess. And some clothes.”

“What about your web things?”

Peter looked at him sharply. “Why?”

Stephen held up the sheaf of papers. “I’ve been doing some research. I think I can turn your web shooters into relics. They’d be able to conjure a suit for you and generate the web fluid magically.”

He rendered Peter speechless, if the wide eyes and gaping mouth were anything to go by.

“What?”

“It would be tricky, but with the right combination of enchantments, the appropriate runes, it’s doable.”

“Why would you do that?” Peter asked.

He stood up and walked around to lean against his desk. He took his time, chose his words carefully.

“What you can do is incredible. You have a gift and you use it to help people. I know that even without Stark’s suit, you’ll still be helping people. I want to be someone who helps you do that.”

“Okay. What else?” Peter looked at him carefully and Stephen had the distinct feeling of being under the metaphorical microscope.

“You’re extraordinary. And you deserve better than what you’ve been given.”

“How can you even know that?”

“Because I’ve met over fourteen million Peter Parker’s and while all of them were amazing, none of them were you.”

Peter shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Stephen smiled. “Not everything does. Not everything has to.”

He was sure that wherever the Ancient One ended up, she was laughing at him, delighted.

Peter shrugged. “Okay. Be weird like that.”

“Would you like to portal to your apartment to get what you need, or should I call us an Uber?”

“You don’t have to come with me,” Peter said, almost before Stephen could finish asking the question.

“No, I do,” Stephen teased. “I promised Aunt May.”

“Magic, then. It’s quicker.” Peter was blushing again, and it was a beautiful sight.

Stephen conjured a portal and, keeping Peter (unnecessarily) close to him, walked them through to the apartment. It was a decent apartment by NYC standards, relatively speaking, for two people.

“It’s not much,” Peter said.

“It’s very nice,” Stephen disagreed. “Do you need help collecting anything?”

“No, I’m good. I’ll be really fast.”

Indeed, it wasn’t even ten minutes before Peter was back with a duffel bag and a very old-looking laptop. Peter caught the look Stephen gave it and smirked. “It’s more impressive than it looks. I built it myself.”

“I’m surprised Tony didn’t just give you one.”

“He tried. Aunt May said no,” Peter said with a shrug.

“It’s not like him to take no for an answer.” At least, not the Tony Stark he knew and tolerated.

“He’s scared of her. He tries to act like he’s not by calling her hot or whatever. But she terrifies him.”

Stephen couldn’t help it; he laughed. He laughed longer and harder than he could remember doing in a long time.

“Your aunt is one of the kindest women I know,” Stephen said at Peter’s puzzled look. “She’s never been anything but nice to me. And Tony Stark is scared of her?” He laughed again. “That’s funny.”

Peter grinned. “She doesn’t like Mr. Stark. He’s never been able to win her over.”

That explained it.

He, like Stark, had an ego. An ego he’d earned several times over. And all it took was the dislike from one person to deflate it and send a person ducking away, tail between legs. (His person had been Christine’s grandfather. The man had hated him, and Stephen’s fear of failure paled in comparison to the fear he’d had of Mr. Palmer.)

“Is there anything else we need to pick up before we head back?”

“No, I think I’m good.”

“If we need to come back, just let me know.”

They went back to the Sanctum. “Does doing this ever get less cool?” Peter asked. He did his (adorable) imitation of Stephen conjuring portals.

Stephen couldn’t help but smirk. “Not really. Remind me to tell you how I learned to do it, sometime.”

“How about now?”

Stephen wanted to indulge him. But there was an insistent knocking at the doors of the Sanctum. He was pretty sure he knew who it was. With a sigh, he gave Peter a meaningful look. Peter didn’t look surprised and followed Stephen to the door.

Stephen opened it.

“Stark.”

“Is it bring your spider to work day?” He was looking between Stephen and Peter, noting the robes that Peter wore. There was something like hurt in the man’s eyes.

“I didn’t have anything else to wear,” Peter said.

“You would have if you’d actually gone home like you promised.”

“I didn’t promise anything,” Peter said.

“You asked him to take you home!”

“But I didn’t say _which_ home, now did I?” Peter countered.

“You’re acting like a child right now, so maybe let’s just calm down for a minute, okay?” Tony said, irritated.

“Standing up for myself is ‘acting like a child’?” Peter asked.

“Of course not,” Tony said. He gave Stephen a look as if to say, “Can you believe this guy?”

“What do you want, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked. He sounded tired, with none of the energy he’d had all morning.

“I wanted to apologize,” Tony said. “I was a dick yesterday, and I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“I forgot the suit, so if you wanna come back with me to the Tower, we can pick it up and you can take a look at the upgrades I did.”

Tony was doing a very good impression of being in complete control of the situation. Stephen wondered, though, if he’d actually forgotten the suit or just hoped to lure Peter back into his good graces. And, if that was the case, if Peter would see through it.

“No thanks,” Peter said. “I don’t need the suit.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I don’t need the suit,” Peter repeated. “And I don’t want it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tony said. “You need the suit.”

“But I don’t. And I’ve more than proven that,” Peter countered. “I took down Toomes without it and got a warehouse dropped on me for my troubles. I survived a plane wreck without it. I don’t need it. The suit isn’t Spider-Man. _I_ am.”

Stephen’s heart nearly stopped. He wanted to step in, but he had no words.

Tony’s face had paled. “What do you mean, you had a warehouse dropped on you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Peter said.

“The hell it doesn’t!” Tony yelled. “Gandalf, back me up here!”

“If Peter doesn’t want to explain past trauma, he’s under no obligation to do so,” Stephen said. His mind was screaming, though. Screaming at him to take Peter and lock him away somewhere _safe_ where nothing could ever hurt him.

“You can’t be serious!” Tony snarled at Stephen. “You know what? I’m done. Come on Kid, you’re coming home with me.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Stephen said.

“Pete?” Tony moved to grab Peter, who stepped back quickly.

“I don’t want to,” Peter said.

“I will call your aunt an-”

“She knows,” Stephen interrupted. “I spoke with her this morning. She asked if I would take care of Peter this weekend, so I am. He’s not going anywhere.”

“Kid,” Tony said. He looked at Peter as if his heart was breaking. “Come on. You know me.”

Peter nodded. “I do. Which is why I’m staying here. Keep the suit with you.” He looked at Stephen. “I’m going to grab lunch.”

He walked off and Stephen put out a hand to stop Tony from following him.

“You were no help,” Tony said. “And since when are you two the best of buddies?”

“I wasn’t aware that my job in this is to help you,” Stephen said idly. “I’m not entirely sure why Peter’s so comfortable around me.” He really wasn’t. He wasn’t going to argue about it, though. He... he was thrilled that Peter trusted him so much.

“And just how did you manage to win over the crazy hot aunt?”

“Probably by not calling her the crazy hot aunt,” Stephen said.

“Is he going to be okay?” Tony asked, looking past Stephen in the direction Peter had walked off.

“He will be. He’s young and emotional, but he’s very bright and aware for his age. Whatever he chooses to do, he’ll no doubt let us know.”

Tony huffed. “He’s never been this upset with me before. I swear, it was like he worshiped the ground I walked on.”

“Is that what you want from him? Blind adoration?”

“No!” Tony snapped. Then he softened. “It was nice, though.” He sighed. “And I’m never getting that from him again.”

“He’s grown up,” Stephen said. “Dying will do that to you.”

“I just- I look at him and I see this kid, you know?” Stephen didn’t, actually, but he nodded. “And he’s incredible. Brilliant and strong and just so… _good_ and I’m so scared he’ll end up like me.”

“There’s something you’re missing,” Stephen said.

“And what’s that, Dumbledore?”

“It’s not about you.”

Tony nodded reluctantly. “It’s about what’s best for Peter.”

“No, it’s about what Peter wants.” How could a man so brilliant not understand?

“Yeah, what Peter wants isn’t usually what’s best for him.”

“We don’t get to decide that.”

“When did you become Peter’s number one advocate?”

“Someone has to be.”

“He’s just a kid!” Tony argued.

“He was adult enough to fight against Thanos more than once.” He considered how much he wanted to reveal. “Multiple battles in millions of timelines. He’s not a child, no matter how you see him. And you certainly come down harder on him than anyone else.”

“I can’t lose him again,” Tony said quietly. “It broke me the first time and I barely managed to piece myself together again. I wouldn’t be able to do it a second time.”

“That’s not a reason to hurt him,” Stephen said.

“I know.”

“Do you?” Stephen couldn’t help but ask. “Keeping him in the dark and isolated hurts him, and as you saw yesterday, doesn’t do him any favors.”

Tony raked a hand through his hair. “I get it. My issues, not his. Great. Do you think he’ll at least take the suit back?”

Stephen sighed. “Drop it off and we’ll see. Whatever happens will be his decision.”

“Right,” Tony says. “Look, if you need anything, you know, for Peter, just uh, let me know. Anything at all.”

“I will,” Stephen promised. Though, he wasn’t sure what he could need from him.

Tony left and the door locked itself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stephen discuss Peter's feelings over Tony's recent visit. Also, there's pizza, a snack, magic, and Stephen doesn't care for being mis-Housed.

**2.**

* * *

Peter was sitting at the small table in the kitchen, eating a grilled cheese sandwich when Stephen found him.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded and swallowed. “Yeah. I took some time, did some thinking. Made some soup.” With a thumb over his shoulder, Peter pointed to a pot on the stove, then looked down. “And grilled cheese. There are a couple left.”

“You didn’t have to make me lunch,” Stephen said.

“I didn’t,” Peter said, unable to keep a straight face.

“Your poker face is terrible,” Stephen teased. “Probably the worst I’ve seen.”

“It’s probably a good thing I don’t play poker,” Peter said. “And that all my best bluffs happen while I’m wearing the mask.”

“Probably.” Stephen got his food and sat across from Peter. “So, Stark wants to drop the suit off. Just in case.”

“He feels guilty?” Peter asked.

“Very.” Damn, the soup was good. And the grilled cheese was amazing. How did Peter get the crust so crunchy?

“His guilt’s not my problem.”

Stephen looked up. Peter looked defiant, jaw set, and shoulders squared. And, despite his best efforts to appear otherwise, Peter was still very hurt.

“It’s not,” Stephen agreed. “He knows he has issues he needs to work out. And he’s going to do his best not to take them out on you.”

“I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

“He cares about you,” Stephen said. He hated advocating for Stark, so much. But Peter wasn’t a hateful, vengeful person. If he cut Stark out entirely, he’d regret it one day. Stephen didn’t want Peter to have to live with that sort of regret.

“That makes it okay for him to be a douchebag?” Peter asked.

“Of course not. His… douchebaggery, it’s complicated.” That was all he could say. Peter deserved to hear it from Stark himself.

“I’ll think about it,” Peter said, finally.

Stephen nodded. “Good boy.”

Peter blushed, the rosy hue starting at his neck and creeping up to his cheeks and even his ears. Part of Stephen wanted to keep going, see if Peter enjoyed being praised or if he was just feeling particularly put on the spot and embarrassed by the attention. It was adorable, either way.

“Do you have any homework that needs to be done?” he asked. Was it still the school year? Was he helping Peter to skip?

“No, I graduated, like, two weeks ago.” 

Two weeks ago, he’d been in Hong Kong, helping repair one of the Doorways of Divication. It had taken him, Wong, and the master of the Hong Kong Sanctum several days to fix it. He’d have to figure out a belated gift.

“Congratulations. What about college applications? Are those done?” He was cutting it a little late, if that weren’t the case.

“I got accepted into MIT, Columbia, and NYU,” Peter said.

“Those are great schools,” Stephen said. He wasn't surprised that Peter had been accepted. “I went to Columbia, myself.”

“Mr. Stark is really hoping for MIT,” Peter said quietly. “He’s talked about giving me the grand tour, what professors actually know their stuff, which housing I want to get.”

“Do _you_ want MIT?” Stephen asked.

“Not really,” Peter said. “It’s expensive, far away, and my acceptance to NYU and Columbia both come with full rides.”

“Do you want to go to either of those schools?”

“I like both of them a lot. Especially how close they are.”

“But do you _want_ to go?”

“I don’t know. I have until July 15th to figure it out.” He sighed. “It was hard enough being Spider-Man while juggling high school. I don’t know if I want to have to juggle college, too.”

“You have a little over a month to figure it out.” Peter looked at him, surprised. “I can’t tell you want to do,” he said. “I can give you advice, but ultimately it’s your call.”

“What would your advice be?”

“I would go. An education isn’t something you should push aside, especially if you don’t have to pay for it.”

“What about Spider-Man? What if someone gets hurt because I wasn’t there?”

“There are a lot of heroes in New York City, all spread out. I think if Spider-Man makes fewer appearances, they’ll step up.” He’d pay some visits if he had to.

“You think so?” Peter asked.

“I do. The whole of New York City, let alone Queens, isn’t your responsibility, Peter. You’re allowed to have a life.”

“You don’t,” Peter pointed out.

Well, damn. A palpable hit!

“My situation is different, and we both know it. And I’m not the only practitioner of the mystic arts; there are plenty of us spread all over the world.”

“You really think I should hang it up for a few years?”

“I think you should do what makes you happy,” he said.

“I guess I could just patrol less,” Peter said. “Start tapering appearances down so it’s not so obvious Spider-Man’s a college student. I wouldn’t have to stop entirely, just maybe focus on school more.”

Stephen nodded. “That would be a smart compromise, very good.”

“Now I just have to choose a school. Any advice there?”

“Columbia, obviously,” Stephen said.

Peter laughed. “No bias there at all.”

“None,” Stephen agreed, tone sarcastic.

“You know, Mr. Stark will blame you for me not picking MIT,” Peter said.

“I have strong shoulders. I can handle it.”

Peter snorted out a laugh. “Actually, it’s funny.”

“What is?” He could watch Peter laughing and smiling all day, every day and not be bored.

“How similar you and Mr. Stark are.”

“First ‘I have no life’ and now you’re saying I’m like _him_. The insults just keep coming from you, don’t they?” He was smiling, though.

“Seriously! You guys are so alike!” Peter said eagerly.

“One more out of you and I’m sticking you in the Mirror Dimension for the rest of the weekend,” Stephen warned teasingly.

Peter stopped but couldn’t mask his grin.

“So, what do Spider-Men do when they’re not patrolling and don’t have homework?”

“Try and fail to stay out of trouble, usually,” Peter said. “But Ned’s visiting his grandparents down in Florida and MJ has some summer internship in DC. Basically, I have nothing to do. I figured I’d just play a video game on my computer.”

“Please tell me it’s not that game with the dancing,” Stephen said.

Peter laughed. “Not a Fortnite fan?”

“I had to see way too much of it when I was looking through timelines. Don’t ask.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not that game. It’s a really old game called _Blood_.”

“It’s not _that_ old!” Stephen complained.

Peter just laughed.

“Okay, I have some stuff to prepare before I enchant your web shooters. Go play your game and I’ll call when I need you, alright?”

Still laughing, Peter cleared the table and left.

“It’s not that old,” Stephen muttered to himself.

Back in his study, Stephen began to write out his plans. There would have been a time when he would have winged it, but Peter’s suit - and therefore, safety - were too important to him. He couldn’t risk it.

The suit from Stark was intuitive, had its own AI that Peter was attached to. The suit Stephen had in mind would have to be intuitive as well. If he made it semi-sentient like Cloak… well, he’d heard Peter talk Karen down from “Instant-Kill” and relics had minds of their own. Cloak certainly did. But he wanted to make sure that the suit would protect Peter as fiercely as the AI did.

One idea he did have was an obscuring spell. Even if Peter lost his mask, his identity would be protected. Anyone looking would see nothing but a fuzzy image. His voice would be altered. The effects would last until he deactivated his suit. The tricky part would be making sure that any videos or pictures taken would be rendered useless.

It wouldn’t be hard to ensure the suit could move and bend with Peter as he needed it to. A suit spelled to withstand enormous pressure and punishing blows was child’s play. But a suit that Peter would love as much as he loved the nano-tech suit Stark had given him? Still wanted him to have?

That was harder.

 _It’s not a competition,_ he told himself.

(But he did want Peter to like his best.)

Four hours later and he was nearly there. He wouldn’t know for sure unless he tested it with Peter. It was time to bring in Peter. He decided to go looking for him, rather than call him.

Peter was in the closest thing to a living room the Sanctum had. He sat on the couch, hunched over his laptop, and had progressed far into the game. Stephen stood watching him for a bit. He recognized the spot in the game, knew what was coming and that based on Peter’s huff of annoyance, the boy hadn’t.

“How many times have you died?” He asked.

Peter paused the game and looked back at him. “Too many.”

“You need to clear the left side, first,” Stephen said. “Human instinct is to move and clear the right first thing. Go for the left side.”

Peter gave him a look. “Okay, Boomer.” He turned his attention back to the game and started the level again.

Stephen watched him die four more times, ignoring his advice. “Let me,” he said as he sat down and took the laptop. Thanks to his photographic memory, he knew from watching Peter what keys did what. He restarted the level. He had it cleared quickly and paused the game, handing the laptop back to a stunned Peter.

“Have at it,” he said.

“How did you do that so quick?” Peter asked.

“Like I said, Zoomer, it’s not that old of a game.”

Peter took the jab in good humor. “You’ve played before?”

“I didn’t spring from the womb a fully formed, ego-centric multi-disciplinary expert,” Stephen said dryly.

“I get it,” Peter said with a laugh. “So, taking a break?”

“Not so much taking a break as I’m needing you and the web shooters for the next steps,” he answered.

Peter shut the laptop; video game long forgotten. “Great! When do we start?” He hopped up with an energy Stephen wished he could have.

“Considering it’s nearly six, I’m hoping after dinner. Feel up to pizza?”

“Pizza’s good! Do you want me to call the order in?” Peter asked.

Stephen smiled. Peter’s enthusiasm was infectious. “I was thinking we could actually go out for the pizza.”

“Oh,” Peter said, eyebrows raising. “You’re sure?”

“You’d rather stay in?” Stephen asked. He figured Peter would like to get out.

“No, it’s just, aren’t you worried what people getting the wrong idea?” Peter asked.

“What idea would that be?” he asked, deliberately obtuse. “Two friends eating pizza?”

“R-right,” Peter said. “Yeah.”

“Why don’t you go get changed?” Stephen suggested. “And Peter?” He called, when Peter was halfway to the stairs. “If I were to take you on a date, you wouldn’t doubt my intentions.”

He caught the blush that lit up Peter’s face as he scrambled up the stairs.

It took roughly ten minutes to walk to the pizza place. Peter looked around, interested as they made their way toward 7th Ave. Stephen walked on the outside of the sidewalk, keeping himself between Peter and traffic. When Peter stumbled as people rushed past them, Stephen was quick to steady him. If Peter noticed that Stephen kept a hand on the small of his back as they continued on, he didn’t say anything.

“We could have just done the sparkly thing,” Peter said.

“I’m not conjuring a portal for a ten-minute walk,” Stephen said, amused. “Besides, fresh air does us good.”

“Is that your professional medical opinion, Doctor?”

Oh, he liked hearing Peter call him that, even if he was being a smart-ass about it. “As a matter of fact, it is. Listen to your doctor, Peter.”

“Yeah, okay,” Peter said, smiling.

Stephen chanced a small swat on Peter’s ass and Peter’s ears went red in that adorable way of his. “Behave and I might just spring for a sucker afterwards.”

“Do I get to pick the flavor?”

“Only if you’re really good.”

 _A Slice of Bleecker Street_ was about as crowded as Stephen expected for a Friday evening. They waited for nearly fifteen minutes before they were seated, Peter clutching a menu in his hands. He kept close to Stephen, who discreetly worked a dampening spell to lessen the sensory inputs around them.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” Peter said. “It’s a lot, sometimes.”

“I’m happy to help.”

They managed to finish off two large pizzas (Peter ate one by himself), an order of hot wings (Peter), and the complimentary bowl of bread sticks (mostly Peter) before all was said and done. The server would appear to refill their drinks, but otherwise let them be. Stephen kept the dampening spell up which gave them the added benefit of privacy.

Peter was much more animated than he’d been the previous evening, worn from battle and emotionally drained. He poked Stephen’s brain for advice about Columbia (“If you decide to go, try for John Jay Hall.”) and recounted the story of his first real mission as Spider-Man, which turned out to be the disaster in Germany. He also had a running game on the other patrons, smirking when he correctly picked which “Karen” would ask for a manager before their meal was through.

“You do realize you named your suit’s AI Karen, right?” Stephen pointed out.

“I mean, she did threaten to speak to Mr. Stark a lot, who was pretty much the manager. And she’d lose her cool and try to activate ”Instant Kill“ at pretty small-time stuff,” Peter reasoned.

Stephen laughed. The logic was pretty solid on that point. 

“Thank god I’m Gen X,” he said. “Are you going to be okay without the AI?” he asked.

Peter shrugged. “I think so. I liked her a lot, but at the end of the day, she answered to Mr. Stark, not me.”

Stephen surveyed Peter over steepled hands. “Turning the web shooters into relics… well, you’ve met Cloak. These things have minds of their own.”

“Are you saying they’d turn on me?” Peter asked, frowning.

“I’m saying that there’s every chance they’ll do what’s best for _you_ , if they feel you’re in jeopardy. That may be sending out flaming webs, increasing the strength of a punch, or simply slinging you away from danger.”

“That doesn’t sound very fair.”

“Fair doesn’t factor into the mystic arts,” Stephen said. “The idea is for these to help you as Spider-Man, not keep you from it. But, like most relics, they’ll take protecting you very seriously. The first time I tried to fight with Cloak’s help, it kept me from running to grab a weapon because it had a better plan.”

Peter snorted out a laugh. 

“You try being overruled by a giant piece of fabric; it’s humiliating,” Stephen said.

Peter continued to laugh, up until Stephen stopped him from paying by conjuring a small portal to steal his wallet, only giving it back once he’d handed the server the money for the meal - and a tip - directly. 

“You don’t have to-” Peter started.

“I’m well aware of what I do and don’t have to do,” Stephen interrupted to inform him. They left the restaurant, Stephen once again keeping Peter on the inside of the sidewalk, hand guiding him.

“So, these relic things won’t be like babysitters or snitch on me or anything like that?” Peter finally asked, once he’d gotten most of his irritation at being thwarted out of the way. “Because I actually created the web shooters and having them turn out like that would be a real bummer.”

“No,” Stephen said. “ _I’m_ the babysitter, remember?”

Peter… blushed at that. “Right. So uh, are we going to keep working or are we putting off the magic thing until tomorrow?”

“I can go for hours yet,” Stephen said.

Peter, amazingly, went redder at the comment. Stephen knew he was pushing it. And he really shouldn’t. He was supposed to be looking out for Peter, being a trusted friend to the boy, not slipping in sly sexual innuendos.

“Unless you’d rather I put you to bed,” he added.

_But I sometimes just can’t help myself!_

“No,” Peter finally said. “Considering I’m 18 and don’t need a bedtime.”

“Definitely not,” Stephen teased. “Not even a bedtime snack?”

“Depends on what you mean by snack,” Peter said, glancing up at him as they climbed the steps to the Sanctum. “I mean, _I’ve_ been called a snack.”

Stephen fumbled as he unlocked the doors and Peter brushed past him once they opened. He’d barely gotten inside and locked the doors behind him when Peter was in front of him. He was looking at Stephen in a way he hadn’t before.

Then Peter stepped even closer, surged up on his tiptoes, and kissed him.

It was over almost as soon as it began. Peter pulled back, still looking at Stephen. “So, did that count?” he asked.

“Count for what?” Stephen asked, slightly dazed. He wondered if the kiss had even actually happened.

“A bedtime snack,” Peter answered. His hands were twitching, and he shifted from foot to foot.

Slowly, Stephen smiled. “No,” he said with a quick flick of his hand that sent Peter against the wall, pinned. He stalked over to him, taking in the flushed cheeks and slight trembles as Peter tried to steady his breathing. He was close now, his body pressed against Peter’s. He cupped Peter’s face and leaned down. “It goes more like this.”

He kissed him, all thoughts of caution, of holding back and being responsible gone. It wasn’t a peck like Peter had given him, he swiped Peter’s lips with his tongue until they parted for him. He gripped the back of the boy’s neck, his other hand sliding down along his side as he forced a leg between Peter’s and held him in place.

When Stephen finally pulled back, he could feel the pressure of Peter’s erection against his thigh. His own was pressing against Peter’s stomach. The boy let out a little whine at the loss of Stephen’s lips and he gave his neck a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

“See?” he asked, drinking in the sight of Peter’s bright brown eyes, slightly open mouth, and flushed cheeks. Peter looked gorgeous.

“Y-yeah,” Peter said. “But show me again, just to be sure?”

“Gladly,” Stephen said. He leaned down and kissed him again.

This time Peter clutched him close, unwilling to be a passive partner again. He tried pushing his lips back against Stephen in an attempt to lead, but Stephen wasn’t having it. He gently bit the boy’s lip and gripped his neck a little tighter, moving him until the angle was just where he wanted it. He kissed down to Peter’s jaw line and then up towards his ear, where his teeth tugged the lobe.

Peter moaned, and Stephen took that as an invitation to run his hand up under his shirt, feeling the warm skin. Peter was warm to the touch, responsive, lean muscles contracting as Stephen found certain spots. “D-doc-” Peter broke off when Stephen tweaked a nipple.

“Hmm? Tell me what you want, Peter.” He turned his attention to the boy’s neck, licking down and kissing up the column.

“I… I don’t know,” Peter said, gasping as Stephen rubbed his leg against his jean-clad erection.

Stephen pulled back. He looked at Peter closely. “Do you want to stop?”

“I don’t know,” Peter said. “It’s so much but it feels so good and your voice just _does_ something to me, and I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and this will just be another dream.”

Stephen’s lips quirked up. “You dream about me?”

Peter’s eyes went wide as he realized what he’d said. “Yeah,” he admitted as he hung his head.

Stephen used a long, scarred finger to lift his gaze. “I’ve dreamed about you, too.”

“G-good things?” he asked.

Stephen let out a low laugh and ground his thigh against Peter again. “Not even remotely, I’m afraid. At least in decent circles.”

“Really?”

He couldn’t help it, he kissed Peter’s neck again - on the other side, now - and worked his way up to whisper in his ear. “You have no idea.”

It was _Peter_ who pulled back that time. His brows were furrowed, and a frown was adorning that gorgeous little mouth.

“You’ve never said anything. I’ve been 18 since last August, and you’ve never said anything,” he said.

“I didn’t see how I could. Every time I saw you, you were with Stark.” He’d like to say he didn’t sound bitter, but he never had been a fan of lying.

“You’re jealous,” Peter said. He was studying Stephen intently.

“Incredibly,” Stephen freely admitted.

“You don’t need to be.”

“Oh?” This wasn’t what he’d expected when he woke up that morning. Nothing about the day - save for Tony Stark showing up - had been what he’d expected.

“Yeah, I don’t, I mean I’m not - with him, you know?”

“Did you want to be?” Why, why, _why_ did he have to ask?

Peter seemed to be thinking hard, choosing his words carefully. “Back when I didn’t know any better, sure.” he finally said. “I was fifteen and kind of in love with the idea of him, more than him himself. But then I got to _know_ him and work with him and I realized that he’s a mess. Plus, he’s kind of madly in love with Ms. Potts, you know? He’s married to her. They have an adorable daughter. And again, he’s a mess.”

Stephen could understand that. “And me?”

“You’re a mess, too,” Peter said, grinning.

“But not as much of a mess as Stark, right?” Stephen couldn’t help but ask.

“The only person who’s even come close to Mr. Stark is Cap,” Peter said.

Stephen considered the disaster that was Steve Rogers. “Yeah, I’ll buy that.” Then he moved his leg, took a step back so that he wasn’t pinning Peter against the wall. “So, what now?” he asked.

Peter shrugged. “Magic?”

Stephen tried not to be too disappointed. The moment _had_ effectively been ruined. If he was going to take Peter into his bed, there weren’t going to be any thoughts or words about Rogers or Stark.

“For a couple of hours,” he allowed, checking his watch. “Go grab the web shooters and meet me in my study.”

Peter rushed off, while Stephen went to his study. His erection had gone away, and he kind of hated himself for being so honest. He’d revealed far more than he’d wanted.

Thankfully, there wasn’t time to dwell on his loose tongue. Peter was strolling into his office, web shooters in hand, thrumming with excitement.

Peter watched him carefully - a little _too_ carefully as he worked. Stephen had performed some of the most complicated and ground-breaking surgery with the most renowned medical minds in attendance without even a hint of unease. Peter watching made him far more nervous.

He used a scalpel he’d enhanced to etch in the needed runes. Markings for protection, strength, speed, agility, and a host of other abilities were added. “I’ll need your hand,” he said.

Peter held it out, and Stephen quickly, almost casually, nicked his middle finger with the scalpel, using the blood to trace over the markings he’d etched.

“Seriously?” Peter asked, looking bewildered. “Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Linking the relics to your genetic signature so others can’t operate and therefore, misuse them is a bit much?” Stephen asked dryly.

“Did it have to be blood?”

Stephen considered. “I suppose saliva might have worked in a pinch, but blood is the go-to for a reason.”

“Whatever you say, Malfoy,” Peter grumbled, sucking on his finger.

“Please,” Stephen scoffed. “I’m a Ravenclaw.”

Peter opened his mouth to argue.

“Ravenclaw, cherry wood wand - 12 ½ inches and slightly bendy with a dragon heartstring, and my Patronus is a giant pacific octopus,” Stephen rattled off. “And, in case you’re wondering, Puckwudgie.”

“I’d have definitely pegged you as Slytherin,” Peter said. “Cunning, ambitious, driven.”

“Hat Stall,” Stephen admitted, flipping through his notes. “I chose Ravenclaw.” He found what he was looking for and picked up the other web shooter. He needed to work the same process, but mirrored. He massaged his fingers, stretched, and started etching again. When he got to the needed part, he said “hand, the other one” and Peter dutifully allowed his finger to be pricked so Stephen could seal the runes.

When he was done, he took both of Peter’s hands in his and healed them.

“See? Good as new.” He kissed each as a flourish.

“Is that standard medical care?” Peter asked, looking at his hands and flushing pink.

“Sure,” Stephen said. “For mystical arts practitioners who can’t ethically practice medicine any longer.”

“Does that mean I _don’t_ get that sucker, after all?”

“I have my ways.” He stood and tossed Peter the web shooters - which now resembled cuffed bracelets - and motioned for him to put them on. “We’re going to go into the Mirror Dimension for this,” he said as he stepped around the desk. “What happens in the Mirror Dimension-”

“Stays in the Mirror Dimension,” Peter finished with a smirk. “Like Vegas.”

Stephen scrubbed a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. _Teenagers._ “In essence, yes. Other realities aren’t affected. It makes it a safe place to practice more difficult and dangerous forms of magic.”

“Just how dangerous is this?”

“Well, no one’s attempted to create a relic from technology this modern in well over two centuries, so your guess is as good as mine.” He crossed his legs and leaned back against the desk. “Chances are they could very well explode as soon as we activate them.”

Peter stared at him. “You’re joking, right?”

“Mostly.” He watched Peter’s expression of wonder and slight panic as the Mirror Dimension shattered into being around them.

Once they were fully ensconced in the dimension, Stephen motioned for Peter to stand facing away from him.

“Now, the idea is to feel the magic expanding, moving over you.” He moved up behind Peter, hands grasping Peter’s arms just above his wrists. “You can’t beat the mystic arts into submission. You have to surrender to the flow, use the current as your own power.”

In front of him, Peter relaxed. Stephen began moving Peter’s lower arms in a delicate motion, until Peter was doing it on his own. “Good.” He held his own hands out. “Watch my hands, my fingers, my wrists.”

“Swish and flick?” Peter teased.

“Peter.” His voice was warning. The mystic arts weren’t to be trifled with. “Watch.”

He motioned with his fingers, bending his wrists and tapping them together before separating and twisting them. Then he stepped away, giving Peter room. “Your turn.”

Peter frowned and did the same motions as Stephen had, but nothing happened. “Why isn’t it working?”

“Do it again.”

Nothing.

“Again.”

Nothing.

He could see hands shaking, and shoulders tensing. Peter was getting frustrated. “It’s not working!” He looked up at Stephen accusingly.

“Stop trying to force it,” Stephen said. “Relax. Let yourself feel the relics. Use that Peter Tingle of yours, if you have to.”

“It’s not a tingle!” Peter snapped. He glared at Stephen, irritated.

He’d been on the receiving end of worse by high-handed and cocksure interns less than thirty minutes into his residency. Peter’s bite was more like a toothless nip. “It’s a preternatural sense and you should use it,” he continued, unfazed. 

Peter sighed. He took some deep, centering breaths, and began again. He copied Stephen’s motions, fingers bending just slightly as his wrists came together and apart.

“Not bad.”

Peter opened his eyes and looked down. And yelped.

The robe-like suit he was wearing was a dark blue. It was much tighter, without the excess fabric often favored by practitioners. In place of the web pattern, was the Seal of the Vishanti on repeat in silver, and the usual spider emblem adorned his chest. The web shooters themselves glowed silver. The suit had a hood and when Peter pulled it up, a mask formed, covering his face.

“What do you think?”

Peter pulled the hood down. His face was lit up as if he’d just come downstairs on Christmas morning to find a massive pile of presents underneath the tree.

“This is the coolest!”

“Want to try it out?”

Peter nodded eagerly.

Stephen portaled them out of the Sanctum and into the streets of New York. Traffic flew by like vapors as mirrored visions of people rushed about their evenings. “Give it a try.”

“And it’s just like before?” Peter asked.

“If I did it right, yes.”

Peter looked around for a good building. He picked his target and with a quick snap of his wrist, shot a web and slung up and away.

Stephen settled into a meditative form while Peter explored the ins and outs of his new suit.

There were a few mishaps - Peter tried to send one web with an electric current, but both activated, causing Peter to fall and Stephen moving to slow and catch him. Then, on another try, the webs actually boomeranged back, wrapping around Peter. He fell over and hit the ground with a thud, and after laughing at the absurdity, Stephen dissolved the webbing and helped him up.

“We’ll need to make some tweaks to the webbing spells,” Stephen said. “It’s supposed to materialize with your thoughts and will.” He was looking at Peter, but the words were more for the relics. He could feel their magic - new and excited. They’d settle into their personality as Peter continued to use them, grow with them.

Peter nodded, pulling his hood down.

“Just a question. Why boomerang webbing?” Stephen had to know.

“Because,” Peter said, grinning at the web shooters in a way that had Stephen suspecting the idea hadn’t been entirely his. “Boomerangs.”

“Right.”

Yes, the relics would definitely develop their personality. They were already well on their way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stephen have a whole day ahead of them. So. Penguins.

**3.**

* * *

  
Back in the Mirror Dimension study, Stephen took out his phone and snapped a few pictures of Peter in the suit, with and without his mask. The real test was coming up. “Next lesson: take the suit off.”

Peter, who was hanging upside down on the ceiling, abruptly fell and just managed to land upright. “What?” He really did have the most appealing blush. Flustered was such a nice look on him.

“I suppose you could wear the suit 24/7 if you wanted. But, if you can conjure the suit, you need to be able to send it back.”

“Right. How do I do that?”

“It’s your suit. You tell me,” Stephen prompted.

Peter huffed. “I don’t know! It’s not like I can just slap these things together and have it disappear!” He tapped his web shooters together in demonstration. And the suit disappeared, leaving him in his regular clothes.

“You were saying?”

Peter gaped. He moved his hands in quick motions and brought the relics together - the suit appeared. He tapped them together again - the suit disappeared. Peter repeated the process several more times, ending up in his usual clothes. “This is seriously the coolest thing ever,” he said, looking from the web shooters to Stephen with awe.

“I’m glad you like it.” As he checked to see if the pictures on his phone still protected Peter’s identity without the suit in place - Spider-Man’s bare face was nothing more than streaks of color - Peter had taken a running start and thrown himself at Stephen. His arms wrapped around Stephen and just held him tightly.

“Thank you!” Peter said. When he eventually pulled away, his brown eyes were suspiciously red-rimmed and bright.

“You’re welcome.”

Stephen brought them both into the real world. Peter let out a long, loud yawn and Stephen shook his head fondly. “I think it’s bedtime for you.”

“Can I sleep in your room?”

Stephen looked at him. The last thing he wanted was for Peter to feel like he had to _thank_ him for the new suit. Stephen wasn’t exactly a good man, but he wasn’t a predator, either.

“Just sleeping,” Peter clarified when Stephen didn’t answer.

Stephen considered. Hell, they’d nearly desecrated the wall downstairs, so why not? Indeed, he had a feeling that Peter was so tired that nothing would happen as he’d said.

“If you’d like. Cloak will show you. I’ll be up once I check on a few things.”

Checking up on a few things included securing the Sanctum for the night and sending a missive to Wong that he would be unavailable until Sunday evening. If he also froze time so he could spend an hour or so debating if having Peter in his bed was really a good idea… that was his business.

Just sleeping. Sure.

Peter was already in bed when he made his way up to his bedroom. Stephen could see his pants and shirt folded neatly on the nearby chair. Peter was moving around under the bedding, as if trying to find the perfect way to settle so he could drift off.

“How do you ever leave this bed?” Peter asked. His voice was heavy with exhaustion.

“Years of discipline,” Stephen answered honestly.

He admired the sight of Peter in his bed, wrapped in dark blue fleece sheets, curled under heavy cotton-knit and ultra-plush blankets. Peter looked safe, secure, and peaceful.

“It’s so soft and warm.”

“You should feel it when it’s winter and I add the heated blanket.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Peter said. “’m always cold. Come to bed, ’m tired.”

Stephen undressed down to his boxers, sending his clothes over to join Peter’s. He slipped into bed alongside Peter and turned so that his back was to the boy. It wasn’t personal; Stephen was a side-sleeper by nature.

“Good night,” Peter said.

“Pleasant dreams.”

Stephen woke at 7am to find they’d shifted in the middle of the night, as was so common, given that the human body easily moved over 100 times while sleeping.

He extracted himself from the grappling hold Peter - still fast asleep - had him in. He had a routine he’d rushed through the previous day and he didn’t want to do it again. Peter could continue sleeping - he’d never met a teenager that would turn down a few extra hours.

In the shower, he held his hands under the hot water, exhaling as the stiff digits began to relax. He washed as usual - taking the time for his usual in-shower stroke off. Should he have, with Peter sleeping in the next room? Debatable. When he was done, he rinsed the shower stall and hurriedly dressed.

The time he needed, honestly, was for his hands. The heat of the shower had helped. He worked each finger, massaging and rubbing up and down before stretching them just until it hurt. One of the students at Kamar-Taj had made a specialized cream for him and he rubbed it into his hands, especially around the scars. It kept the skin from growing too tight. His hands still ached from his excessive use of them yesterday, but he’d manage.

Peter was still sleeping when he stepped out of the bathroom. He’d taken over Stephen’s pillows in his absence and looked very comfortable cuddled up with them under all the bedding. Stephen snapped a picture of him on his phone before pulling on a pair of socks and making his way downstairs to the kitchen.

Coffee brewing, Stephen started reading over the stack of reports from Kamar-Taj that had been delivered sometime in the middle of the night, along with a coffee cake.

_Novice Masilda was progressing faster than expected in her studies…Novice Manfred needed more guidance…Masters Shinot and Kellen were expressing interest in training for mystical botany…the Doorways of Divication at the Hong Kong Sanctum were holding steady…could the creation of twenty more sling rings be authorized?…_

Stephen wrote out his responses, enjoying his coffee and a slice of the cake. He’d never considered that his role as the Sorcerer Supreme would entail paperwork, but it wasn’t nearly as complicated as some of the administrative work he’d had to do as a surgeon. It didn’t take him as long as the medical stuff had, at the very least.

When he was finished, with papers portaled back to Kamar-Taj, he cooked breakfast for Peter, leaving the plate under a dome spelled to keep whatever it covered hot. Then he went into his study, grabbed the book he’d been reading in his free time, and went into the living room to relax and read until Peter awoke.

Peter didn’t wake until 10. He came downstairs, groggy and with a case of bedhead that had Stephen wishing he’d been the one to mess it up. He stopped in the doorway when he saw Stephen reading. “How long have you been up?” he asked with a yawn.

“A few hours. There’s breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen.”

Peter nodded and walked off, obviously still not fully awake. _Teenagers_ , Stephen thought again, and resumed reading his book. He barely registered Peter going back upstairs, or the sound of a shower running.

He was nearly finished with the book when Peter came and found him. 

“Sorry I slept so long,” he said. He was wearing a pair of jeans a size too big and a shirt reading “Don’t trust atoms. They make up everything.” His shoes had seen better days, too. “And thanks for breakfast.”

“Take all the time to sleep you need. Believe it or not, I was once a teenager, too,” Stephen said. He marked his place in his book and gave Peter his full attention. “And you’re welcome.”

“It’s just, I sleep so good here,” Peter explained. “I actually feel rested.”

“I’m glad.” He looked at his watch. “What did you want to do today?”

Peter shrugged. “You said we needed to tweak the webbing spells.”

“I did. Anything else?”

“I don’t think I want to go patrolling just yet. But I don’t know, I may look and see if there’s anything going on around town. Maybe go to Central Park. I haven’t been to see the penguins in a while.”

Stephen smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something so wholesome. Going to see the penguins being fed seemed like a very Peter-like thing to do.

“Let me tweak the spells and then I’ll portal you there, if you’d like.”

“Do you want to come?”

“Really?” Stephen asked. “You’re inviting me?”

“I mean, it’s supposed to be nice out today and you _are_ supposed to be keeping an eye on me, after all.” Peter wasn’t looking at Stephen, but beyond him, cheeks pink.

“You really want to spend your Saturday with me?” Sure, Peter was comfortable with him, and they’d had that moment the previous evening, but he wasn’t going to assume anything.

“Yes,” Peter said, chancing a glance at Stephen directly. “I like you, okay? A lot.”

“Peter-”

“You said you’d had dreams about me, last night. Dirty ones,” he continued, interrupting. “So I know that you like me too, on some level.”

“I do like you,” Stephen said as he stood. “But I can’t help but feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

“Why?”

“You came to me needing help and I-”

“You’ve helped me! How is that taking advantage?”

“I’m supposed to be looking out for you, not behaving like a predator.”

“Can you take these away?” Peter held up his wrists, showing off the relics.

“No. They won’t accept another master.” Relics were some of the most stubborn objects in existence, in this dimension and in many, many others.

“Okay. Without using magic, could you fight me off?” Peter asked. “Physically hurt me?”

“No,” Stephen said truthfully. To even have a chance of scoring a physical hit he’d need the mystic arts. Peter was very strong and very fast. Not to mention that the last thing Stephen wanted to do was hurt him. 

“Then how exactly could you be taking advantage of me? Or be preying on me?”

“I’m still in a position of power over you, Peter. Not to mention twenty years older.”

Peter barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “Please. If you count all the timelines you searched through, you’re easily millions of years older than I am. Which is just dumb.” He stepped closer to Stephen. “I’m not a stupid little kid, here. I’ve fought super soldiers and aliens and I _died_ in _space_. I’ve had to see and do things that no one should ever have to. I know what I want, and that’s more time with you.”

“And would you still want that time with me if you weren’t so upset over what Tony said to you the other day?” Why did he have to ask? Why couldn’t he just accept Peter’s words at face value? He certainly wasn’t a noble person in his past life.

“Yes!” Peter nearly yelled. “Yes, I would! I told you, I’ve had fantasies about you! They weren’t exactly kid-friendly, either, because contrary to what everyone seems to think, I do have hormones!”

“You can do a lot better than me, Peter.” Weak sauce. Very weak.

“I don’t _want_ better than you!” Peter snapped. “Okay? You’re a mess, but you’re also brilliant and hot and you have this _voice_ that just does things to me and you’re one of the very few people who don’t look at me or treat me like I’m a child.”

“I just need you to be sure,” Stephen said. What else could he reasonably ask?

“I’m sure,” Peter insisted. He stepped even closer and held out his hands to Stephen. “I’m sure.”

Stephen nodded and pulled Peter in a quick embrace. “Okay, then. Magic and then penguins?”

“Magic and then penguins.”

After tweaking the runes on the web shooters and sealing them again, Stephen had Peter take them on what was supposed to be a quick test run in the Mirror Dimension.

Peter had his suit on before Stephen could remind him to center himself and concentrate. He spent a good amount of time just slinging around before deciding to test the tweaked spells and sending off different kinds of webs at various objects Stephen conjured and sent flying toward him. There were no mishaps this round, and Peter landed in front of Stephen with a flourish once he was finished. He stood up and disabled the suit.

“I know I’ve said this already, but this suit is seriously the coolest thing ever!” Peter looked so earnest that Stephen couldn’t resist kissing him.

“Mixed signals here, Doc,” Peter said, when they separated.

“Are you still sure?” Stephen asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then no mixed signals on my end,” he said. And kissed him again.

If it weren’t for the portals, they would have been late to see the afternoon penguin feeding.

“They’re fed twice a day,” Peter said as they paid their admission and made their way to the Polar Seabirds exhibit.

He didn’t even look at Stephen, just kept rambling off facts about the penguins while they walked through the crowds. Stephen was surprised, but really quite pleased when Peter linked their hands. If anyone was sending them funny looks, he didn’t notice. Peter was far more interesting.

“I wonder if the Rockhoppers know that they’re just as valid as the others, even if they’d rather jump and hop instead of slide on their bellies.” 

He couldn’t help but smile; sometimes Peter was just too pure. “I’m sure they know,” he said. He’d never in his life thought he’d be commenting on the self-esteem of any animals, let alone penguins.

“I hope so,” Peter said with a small frown. “It’s no fun being the odd one out all the time.”

Stephen squeezed his hand. “You won’t always be,” he said. “Not to the people who matter. And not to the Rockhoppers,” he added with a small smile, when Peter looked up at him.

“Never to the Rockhoppers,” Peter agreed with a grin.

The crowd was lively around the glass as the penguins waddled around and swam. Stephen did another dampening spell and Peter huddled close to him. He looked so happy watching the creatures.

“My Uncle Ben brought me here a couple of months after he and Aunt May took me in. I didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything after my parents died, but he said that if I didn’t enjoy myself, he’d let me stay in my room the rest of the summer, if I wanted. We ended up coming here almost every week for a year.” Peter leaned back into Stephen; eyes still glued to the penguins moving around.

“He sounds like he was a good man.”

“Ben was the best. He just seemed to get me, you know? It never mattered how many hours he’d worked or how tired he was, he always had time for me. I didn’t realize how selfish I’d been about it until I got bitten, but he swore up and down that I wasn’t a burden to them.”

“He was telling you the truth,” Stephen said. “You weren’t a burden to him. And you’re not a burden to May, now.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know _you_ ,” he said. “You’re a good person.”

“I wonder about that sometimes,” Peter said.

“Don’t,” Stephen said. “Fourteen million six hundred and five. Every one of them.”

Still holding hands, they turned their attention to the penguins.

Three of the zoo workers were navigating the enclosure, each carrying two large buckets full of fish. Several penguins, very excited, waddled around and crowded them. They received some affectionate looks from the workers, and the resulting trill-like cawing from the “ignored” birds had many of the children gathered laughing.

Once the workers were settled, the real show began. Penguins dove in to catch the fish thrown while others let themselves be hand-fed. Peter laughed at one penguin who snuck a fish out of one of the buckets while the man’s head was turned. It wasn’t something he’d have enjoyed in his former life, but Stephen had to admit that the entire affair was… entertaining. It was as if being around Peter had given him new eyes.

They ended up staying at the zoo until closing time. Peter told Stephen to choose what they would go see next, and Stephen decided they should just make a lap around the zoo, stopping wherever the mood struck them. It was nice to re-familiarize himself with the place.

He remembered everything he’d read about the various animals - of course, he did - but he was happy to let Peter read the information aloud. He was happy to take pictures of Peter in front of the animals. He was even happy to let Peter take _his_ picture with a lemur that was particularly interested in sussing him out.

From the zoo, he and Peter moved north through the park. They grabbed dinner at _The Loeb Boathouse_ , prompting Peter to question if Stephen even knew how to cook.

“I’m a man who knows his strengths,” Stephen said, altering Peter’s ID to read 21 so they could eat at the (cheaper) outside bar.

“Which don’t include cooking?”

“Not anything outside of Midwest cuisine.” At Peter’s questioning look he added, “Casseroles, cheese balls, and jello fruit molds.”

Peter ordered the cheeseburger, insisting to the waitress that he was happy with a soft drink rather than any of the cocktails she suggested. He looked at Stephen with incredulity when he ordered the cheese board.

“That’s not a meal!”

“The great thing about being an adult is that you can have whatever you want for dinner,” Stephen said. He handed his menu back to the waitress. “Just wait until you have ice cream for dinner for the first time. Then you’ll understand.”

“Speaking of, you don’t have to keep buyin-.”

“As I’ve said, I’m well aware of what I do and don’t have to do where you’re concerned.”

“It’s just… I thought you were broke.”

Stephen sat up. “Who told you that?”

Peter’s ears had gone red with embarrassment. “Mr. Stark ran a profile on you, you know, after.” He shrugged. “He didn’t tell me, but I did look through everyone’s files, to get familiar.”

“I’m not broke. I used to be, since I put every dime I could beg, borrow, or steal into surgeries and research for fixing my hands. The money I have now comes from writing for medical textbooks, as well as royalties back paid from the five years we were gone. Kamar-Taj is also very well-funded.”

Peter, brilliant as ever, figured it out. “It must be easy to stay afloat when you can see potential futures and know what investments to make.”

“It’s been going on for centuries now,” Stephen confirmed blandly. “I don’t manage mine, one of the apprentices does. She’s a former hedge fund genius. She came to us looking for guidance after the death of her wife and child.”

“Just don’t try to buy me?” Peter asked. He’d drained his sugary drink and the waitress was quick to replace it. “I don’t need gifts or anything like that.”

“You can’t buy something that’s priceless.”

Peter looked away, blushing. “Stop,” he whined. “You’re not allowed to be so smooth!”

Stephen couldn’t help but grin. “Don’t worry. Sometimes I also like to be rough.”

As he’d expected, Peter polished off his cheeseburger and fries, and ate anything Stephen hadn’t. They spent time talking. Peter expressed his excitement at deciding to attend Columbia in the fall. Stephen mentioned some of the modernization projects he was considering at Kamar-Taj. And Peter resumed his game of people watching from the previous night, impressively picking out patrons who would ask for the manager.

Feeling very at peace with the world, neither Peter nor Stephen were in any hurry to return home. Instead they strolled leisurely through the park hand in hand, continuing their conversation from dinner. It was still light out, and Stephen figured that they’d easily be home by the time it was dark. What struck him was how quickly he’d started thinking of the Sanctum as Peter’s home.

“Do you ever miss your old life?” Peter suddenly asked.

Stephen considered. “Not as much as I thought I would. I had money and fancy things. I had the acclaim and respect of the most brilliant medical minds in the world and a perfect record in the OR. I was also selfish and detached, caring very little about feelings or most of the people around me. Looking back, I was tremendously unhappy and lonely. I don’t like the man I was.”

“Do you like yourself now?”

“I’m learning to.”

“For what it’s worth, I like you the way you are now.” Peter squeezed his hand.

“It’s worth more than you think.” _It’s worth everything,_ he thought.

A chime went off. Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned when he looked at it. “I don’t know the number,” he said, showing Stephen.

“So, ask.” He watched Peter text back ‘same phone, who dis?’ and snorted.

Shortly after, his phone chimed again. “It’s Captain America!” Peter hissed, clutching the phone to his chest before eagerly texting back ‘which one?’ to which ‘The Cool One’ responded.

“Sam Wilson,” Peter informed Stephen.

Another phone chime. Peter read the message. “He wants to know if I have a few minutes to talk later this week. They want to start group training at the Avengers Compound.”

“Do you want to talk to him? To them?” Stephen asked.

“I don’t know,” Peter said. “I mean, I feel like I should at least hear what they have to say, but I’m going to be busy with college in the fall. Plus, it’s closer to Mr. Stark and I don’t really want to see him.”

“You can’t fit your life around avoiding Stark,” Stephen advised. “In this life we’ve chosen, our paths are going to cross. It’s inevitable. And speaking with Wilson and the others would be a very good chance to make your case that while you appreciate the offer, you have other priorities for the time being.”

“Let me guess… just your advice, but it’s up to me to decide?” Peter asked knowingly.

“Yes.” Stephen shrugged. “If you’d like, I’m happy to go with you. I can give us a quick exit if needed.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “What if the suit had that?” he asked excitedly. “What if I needed a quick escape and all I had to do was like twist my fingers all weird and it would send me to a safe place?”

He decided to ignore Peter’s flippant take on spell manipulation. He too, had scoffed at the intricate and random-looking finger, hand, and arm motions involved in the Mystic Arts. Then he’d opened his mind… and the practice didn’t seem so ridiculous.

“If you’d like to go home, I can see about adding that app from the Mystic Arts store,” Stephen said with a smirk.

Peter groaned as if pained. “You’re such a dork sometimes.”

“Starting off a relationship with verbal abuse, nice.”

“Is that what this is, a relationship?” Peter asked. He’d stopped and was looking at Stephen, expression impressively blank.

“I thought we’d agreed it was,” Stephen said. “If I misinterpreted earlier, I apolog-”

Peter cut him off with a quick kiss. “Sorry, I just needed to check.”

“Feel free to check any time.”

“Let’s go home and you can do some more magic tricks.”

“They’re not _tricks_ ,” Stephen defended. “They’re spells. A trick is something a dog does for treats.”

Peter snorted out a laugh. “Okay. We can go home, and you can do some more _spells_.”

“The Mystic Arts are as old as civilization itself and you talk like they’re something done to entertain children at a birthday party,” Stephen muttered with a shake of his head.

“Come on, please?” Peter wheedled. “I’m sorry I teased you about the magic.”

“Okay, we’ll go home.” Stephen wrapped an arm around Peter as they started to walk again through the park and towards Bleecker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this may or may not have been inspired by the fact that Benedict Cumberbatch can't say the world "penguin."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First it gets steamy, then it gets domestic, and then... Stephen has some explaining to do.

**4.**

* * *

As it turned out, spelling an emergency exit into the relics was a bit more complicated than creating them had been. There could be no hesitation on the part of the user as to what the safe landing site would be. And, until Stephen could figure out a better way, it would have to be same place, every time.

“I need to think about it,” Peter said. “Like, what if Aunt May moves? And then I reappear in the middle of some poor family’s dinner? That’s not good.”

“No, you’re right,” Stephen said.

He wanted to suggest the Sanctum. But that would also require an emotional connection on Peter’s part, in addition to coaxing the wards to allow a random magical signature. And what if one day Peter disliked him? Could he disassociate Stephen from the Sanctum enough to not hesitate in an emergency?

“When you decide where you want to link the exit to, let me know and we’ll set it up.”

“Thank you so much!”

“It’s still fairly early. Would you like to watch a movie?”

“Are you asking me to Netflix and Chill?” Peter asked in response.

Stephen felt himself blushing. “No, my thoughts _were_ fairly innocent, actually.”

Peter grinned. “Sure! Let’s see what Wong’s profile recommends!”

Which is how they ended up sprawled on the floor, laying on couch cushions and pillows Stephen had enlarged and made extra-comfortable, eating from self-refilling bowls of hot popcorn, watching a movie on Peter’s laptop about a hit-man who killed the people who hired him instead and fell in love with a girl just several degrees shy of fitting in. It was random and hilarious and probably the most fun he’d had watching a movie in years.

“And I think that’s a night,” Peter said groggily. He’d been growing steadily more tired as the evening passed.

“Up to bed with you, then,” Stephen told him. “I’ll take care of clean up down here.”

With a nod, Peter stood and made his way upstairs.

Much like the previous night, Peter was already wrapped up in the bedding, half-asleep, when Stephen joined him. He rolled onto his side with his back to Peter, again. He was tired from the past few days and slept deeper and longer than he had in a long time.

The result was that in the morning, he woke to a sensation he’d not felt in years… a very nice ass rubbing back against his morning erection.

Stephen remained still, wanting to determine if Peter was awake or simply in the midst of a _very_ good dream. A few moments later, he had his answer.

“Don’t start what you’re not ready to finish,” he said lowly.

Peter shifted just slightly, quiet. And then, “I’m ready.”

Stephen grabbed Peter and rolled him over, moving to straddle him and throwing the blankets off in the process. He grasped Peter’s hands and pinned them up by his head, smirking at how wide-eyed the boy had gone.

“These stay up here,” he whispered against Peter’s mouth. Golden rings circled his wrists; Peter wouldn’t be going anywhere.

He slid down, kissing along his jaw and neck. He nipped and sucked on the spots that had Peter moaning as he made his way down. Stephen hoped his marks would stay on Peter for at least an hour or so… his body practically thrummed in satisfaction as he saw how pink and red the pale pretty skin turned, knowing it was all because of him.

Stephen wasted little time in pulling Peter’s boxers down and off, tossing them to the side. The cock standing up out of a small patch of brown curls was just as pretty as Peter, red with arousal and with a vein that Stephen had the urge to trace with his tongue. So, he did.

The first touch of his tongue to Peter’s length had the boy yelping, body trying to arch up, but held down by Stephen’s own hands. He kissed down, licked up, mouth sucking on the head while Peter squirmed and gasped. When he took Peter’s full length, Peter let out a loud moan that echoed in the room.

“Oh _god_!”

Stephen swallowed before pulling off. “Problem?”

“N-no,” Peter stuttered. “Just warn a guy, will you?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Stephen mused before turning his attention back to taking Peter apart.

He loved hearing Peter’s pleasure. He always enjoyed having his ego stroked, enjoyed the knowledge that he was succeeding at whatever task had been set for him. Hearing someone as gifted and intelligent as Peter repeating his name filled him with no small amount of satisfaction.

Stephen hadn’t sucked a cock since he’d looked through timelines. Or since his early days as a medical resident, if time-searching didn’t count. But he had his tricks, like sucking on the back spot just under the head…licking right where balls met shaft…letting teeth graze the slit. All in addition to sucking down the length, moaning and pulling back up before doing it all again in various orders.

It was enough to have Peter warning Stephen that he was going to come after only ten minutes or so - impressive given how heightened Peter’s senses were. And Peter’s warning gave him enough time to pull off and grip the base of his cock tightly, preventing the release Peter had been expecting.

“Wha- why?” Peter looked at him with a look of utmost betrayal, even as he panted harshly, body writhing, seeking _something_.

“Oh, Peter,” Stephen said with a sigh, understanding perfectly. He crawled up to kiss him, only pulling back when he was sure Peter was relaxed again. “I’ll _never_ leave you wanting. I’m going to take such good care of you, I promise.”

Peter nodded. “Okay. Yeah.”

“Perfect Boy,” Stephen praised, noting with delight how Peter seemed to glow at those words.

He summoned a small bottle of lube and slid down the bed, settling himself on his knees between Peter’s spread legs. He let himself touch the soft skin, dedicating which spots made Peter shiver to memory. Peter had beautiful legs with well-muscled thighs that called out to be marked, branded. Another time, he decided. He’d make sure of it.

Stephen probably didn’t need to spend as long stretching Peter as he did. But he did enjoy the overwhelmed expression on the boy’s face as he breached the tender skin with a careful finger. (If he happened to channel magic into his hands to keep them steady, that was his business.) There would be time for hurried, frantic prep later.

He was selfish and he wanted every single reaction from Peter, every moan, gasp, shiver. He probed and twisted, only adding a second well-lubed finger after he heard Peter beg for more when he gave the barest of strokes over the boy’s prostate. If Peter thought more meant more stroking there… he was wrong. Stephen kept his stretching and scissoring fingers away from that spot with ease, leading Peter to curse him, much to his amusement.

“Now, now, Peter,” he chided with a _tsk_. “Behave or I stop altogether.”

Peter cursed him under his breath. Stephen pulled his fingers free and slapped his flank, causing Peter to yelp and his reddened cock to twitch. “Behave,” he repeated.

“You’re a sadist,” Peter panted out.

“Of course I’m a sadist. Doctor, remember?” he said with a smirk.

“Can you keep going?”

“As soon as I get this on, yes,” Stephen said, summoning a condom.

“I uh, I haven’t done this before, you know,” Peter said. “In case you don’t want to use it.”

Stephen instantly tossed the foiled package away. “You’re always surprising me.” He stood up to pull off his pajama pants, his erection sprang free, heavy and hard. Peter’s eyes went wide at the sight of it.

“Are you using magic?” he asked.

Rather than be insulted, Stephen let out a short laugh and shook his head. “No.” He took his time getting his cock slick, partly because he didn’t want to hurt Peter in a way that wasn’t good and partly because he enjoyed showing off a bit as he stroked.

He climbed back on the bed and then he grabbed Peter’s legs and settled them on either side of him, delighted with how _pliant_ Peter was. “Just relax.” He lined his cock up with the glistening hole.

“Sure,” Peter said shakily.

“You don’t trust me?” Stephen asked, pausing. If Peter wasn’t sure, he’d stop. No matter how much he _didn’t_ want to stop.

“No, I trust you,” Peter said. “Really, I do! It’s the dick that looks like it could compete with Bad Dragon that’s a little, um, worrying.” His face was beet red and he was looking determinedly away.

The things teens knew these days… Stephen shook his head. “Isn’t that site for ages 18 and up?”

“I’m 18,” Peter said immediately.

Stephen knew better. “But you weren’t when you went looking, were you?” He rubbed the tip of his cock against Peter’s hole. “Peter Parker, you deviant little rule-breaker,” he teased. Peter’s resulting blush was a beautiful sight to see.

“MJ mentioned it and I got curious,” Peter defended.

“Oh, I bet you were, seeing all those monstrosities,” Stephen cooed. “But, if you’re worried, can I reassure you of something?”

Peter nodded.

“Mine’s better.” And he pushed inside Peter, holding his hips steady as his cock head slipped inside. Peter was tight even with Stephen’s handiwork, and his body fought Stephen on every inch. When he was halfway seated, he pulled out and added more lube.

“Oh god, ohmygod, you’re big,” Peter panted, giving Stephen a dreamy sort of look that did wonders for his ego.

“You’ve no idea,” Stephen said lightly before lining up again and then slamming his full length inside the boy.

The sound that was forced out of Peter when Stephen was fully sheathed was otherworldly.

So was the groan that was torn from Stephen.

He was surrounded the _tightest_ , most incredible heat he’d ever felt in his life. Peter unconsciously squeezed around him as his body desperately tried to adjust to Stephen’s invasion. He was mouthing what Stephen was sure was an impressive array of language he’d never use in any other circumstance.

“Are you still with me?” he asked. He leaned forward and braced one hand on the bed by Peter’s face and laced their fingers with the other.

“ _Hngh_ , yeah, just let- let me _shit_ get used to this.” Peter, who’d raised his head to look at Stephen, let his head fall back against the pillow.

“Take your time,” Stephen drawled. “It’s not as if _I’d_ like start moving anytime soon.” He nipped Peter’s jaw, smiling at Peter’s incredulous look to show he was teasing.

“Are you always this much of a dick in bed?” Peter asked. He finally started to relax.

“Yes,” Stephen admitted with a smirk. “But I’m worth it.”

“I’m sure you are,” Peter said, just a tad too sarcastically and Stephen took that as a sign he’d had enough time to adjust. He pulled back and with a sharp thrust, slammed back in. A strangled groan escaped Peter and Stephen did it again. And then again,

“Oh!” Peter cried, not so dismissive anymore. “Oh my god, do that again!”

 _Whatever you want,_ Stephen thought.

He pulled out completely, mourning the loss of the tight heat in the few seconds it took to manhandle Peter, urging him over onto his hands and knees before pushing down between his shoulder blades and driving back in.

The strangled yell that Peter let out was music to his ears. He repeated the motion again and again, setting a hard, deep pace that had a steady stream of gasps and _ah, ah, ugnh, ah_ ’s spilling from Peter as he gripped slim hips with scarred hands.

Inevitably his hands roamed, squeezing, caressing. Under him, Peter was still painfully hard, leaking pre-come onto his expensive bedding.

“Are you close?” he asked, stroking steadily in contrast to his driving thrusting. “Are you going to come for me?”

“Yes,” Peter answered with a moan. “’M so close.”

“Good.”

Stephen sat back, pulling Peter up with him, still impaled on his cock. He wrapped his arms up around Peter’s shoulders and folded his hands behind Peter’s neck, effectively trapping the boy as he started thrusting into him again. It wasn’t soft and sweet like a first time probably should have been, but Peter didn’t seem to have any complaints.

“Come for me,” Stephen said, kissing Peter’s neck. “Let me have it; come for me.”

Peter did so with a loud cry. He clenched and unclenched around Stephen with such force that he nearly came himself. He held still, whispering filthy praise in Peter’s ear until the boy stilled with a great shudder, panting heavily.

“You’re so perfect,” Stephen praised. He resumed his thrusting, holding Peter as close against him as he could manage. His hand trailed down, stealing away to caress the taut chest and abdomen. He felt _himself_ in Peter with every thrust, bulging and retracting. Peter’s hand joined his, and his heart jumped at the little “Oh!” the boy let out.

“You feel so perfect around me. I’d keep you like this forever if I could.”

Forever would have to wait, since it wasn’t long before he felt his own release racing towards him. A hand gripped in Peter’s hair, pulling enough so that he could kiss him sloppily as his hips stuttered. He thrust once, twice, one last time before burying himself as deep as he could and filling Peter.

“T-that’s so good!” Peter breathed out.

Stephen was careful in lowering them down on the bed, sending a scourging spell to clear away Peter’s release from the sheets so that neither ended up on the wet spot. He pulled out slowly and helped Peter turn to face him. “C’mere,” he said.

Peter pressed against him and lifted a leg to wrap around him. He could get used to Peter’s clinging. “That was amazing,” Peter said.

“ _You_ were amazing,” Stephen answered. He slipped a hand down to feel at Peter’s hole, gathering up the jizz that had started to drip free and pushing it back in.

“Oh! Wha-oh!” Peter searched his face with wide eyes and Stephen just had to kiss him again.

His fingers were slippery with lube and his own spend and he lazily pushed them in and pulled them out, fingering Peter while he was still pliant in his arms. It wasn’t long before he rubbed them against the boy’s prostate, pressing against the sensitive spot.

“Oh my god!” Peter whimpered. “D-doctor-”

“At this point I think you should call me Stephen,” he said, and drew him back into a kiss.

“ _Stephen_.” No one had ever said his name with the kind of pleasured reverence Peter had.

It made for the perfect lazy Sunday morning, kissing Peter while fingering him through two more climaxes. Peter was an absolute wreck by the time he was done, clinging to Stephen and kissing him like he’d disappear if he didn’t. Stephen had no intention of going anywhere anytime soon, except maybe the shower, but he planned to have Peter with him.

It was a very good thing that the Sanctum ran on magic and Stephen didn’t have to worry about water bills. He and Peter had stayed for far too long in the shower - saving _no_ water - and spent more time touching each other than actually getting clean.

Peter had laughed himself silly when he’d managed to style a shampoo-assisted Mohawk on Stephen. Stephen’s retaliation had less to do with revenge and more to do with pinning Peter against the shower wall and nipping all over his neck.

The fun had to come to end, however. They only left the shower when Cloak, giving as exasperated gesture as a sentient-fabric relic could manage, opened the shower door. How could a Cloak look so judgmental?

“I’m hiding the fabric softener,” Stephen said to Cloak after he’d accepted the towel it held out for him. “And the dryer sheets.”

Peter looked at Stephen with questioning eyes. He was drying himself off with the towel that Cloak had handed him, mostly concerned with his legs so that he wouldn’t drip water while he walked. “Fabric softener?”

“It has an addiction,” Stephen said. At Cloak’s offended movement, he added “the first step is admitting you have a problem.”

Peter laughed, delighted, and left to dress.

“How are your hands?”

Stephen, towel wrapped around his waist, turned around from where he was studying the contents of his closet. “Hmm?”

“You used them a lot,” Peter said. Though his hair was still damp, he was dressed in another set of robes, rather than the clothes he’d brought from the apartment. Around his wrists were the web shooters-turned-relics. (They really were going to have to give them a catchy name.) “Are they sore?”

Stephen shrugged. “They’re always sore.”

“But is it worse because of all the uh, the um, I mean-”

“Twisting them around inside an enhanced-strength rectum?”

Peter flushed scarlet. “Stephen!”

“They’ll be fine,” Stephen said with a laugh, turning back to grab a shirt and pair of jeans. “I channeled magic through them while we were together. It’s not something I do often, but for you, I thought it was worth it.”

“I didn’t hurt you?” Peter asked.

“No.”

If he expected Peter to shy away as he dressed, he was wrong. Peter sat on the bed and eyed him as he pulled on his clothing. “If you’re expecting a show, I’m afraid I left the feather boa in another dimension,” he teased, grabbing a pair of socks out of his dresser and sitting to pull them on as well.

“I’ll survive,” Peter said. He was giving him a suspicious look. “You put on socks _after_ you’ve dressed?”

Stephen arched a brow. “Does that _offend_ you?”

“No,” Peter muttered. “It just means you’re a psychopath.”

“I also drink straight from the carton and clip my nails from the outside in,” Stephen taunted.

“This is it,” Peter said. “This is how I end up on a true crime documentary.”

Stephen laughed. “It’s almost noon. Food?”

Peter smiled. “You still want to spend time with me?”

“I wasn’t intending for this morning to be a one and done type of thing, if that’s okay with you.”

“No, I definitely don’t want it to be a one-time thing either.”

“Good.”

“How are you this much of a disaster?” Peter asked, taking in the mess that had been made.

The kitchen was turned into an area that, in Peter’s mind, could benefit from yellow tape barring entry while Stephen attempted to help Peter cook. Stephen had tried to be helpful, but they kept getting in each other’s way. A bag of powdered sugar dropped to the floor and broke when Peter stumbled into Stephen (who’d bent down to search drawers for a rubber spatula as Peter had asked), sending the white substance everywhere. Egg shells missed the garbage bin. The custard the French toast was meant to soak in went sloshing out of the bowl when Stephen turned around and jumped back to avoid hitting Peter, who was adding more bacon to the large cast iron skillet he’d unearthed.

They’d each ended up with a few slices of edible French toast, eggs that had gone rubbery after Stephen had distracted Peter, and extra-crispy bacon - the extra crispy part being unintentional. Peter had insisted Stephen just sit down while he plated everything and grabbed orange juice and coffee.

“I told you that cooking isn’t one of my talents,” Stephen protested.

“Then how did you make breakfast for me the past two days?" Peter asked as he sat down.

Stephen looked away. “By taking more time than I’d like to admit.”

Peter grinned and slide the syrup across the table. “You stopped time, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s so sweet,” Peter said. “Using an Infinity Stone just to make me breakfast.”

They spent the rest of their day watching random movies. Peter had gone up to Stephen’s bedroom and returned with a few of the blankets from the bed and several from the linen closet. Along with the cushions and pillows from the night before, Stephen spelled them into an elaborate, but cozy tent. 

They switched from Wong’s profile on Netflix to Peter’s and went down the list of things he’d marked as wanting to watch. They skipped over anything heavy and dramatic, opting for comedies or action movies that were completely disconnected from reality. When hunger reared its head, so did the never-ending bowl of popcorn. When they got thirsty, Stephen summoned self-refilling tumblers of their favorite sodas. When they got bored of watching the current movie, they turned the volume down and made use of the cushions and blankets.

It was in the middle of yet another heavy make out when an alarm blared from Stephen’s phone. With a groan he slid his hands out from underneath Peter’s shirt where they’d been mapping out the lean muscles and checked his phone. He flopped down against the cushions next to Peter when he saw what it was.

5pm.

“Is it time to go home already?” Peter asked.

“Unfortunately.”

“Legally I don’t have to, you know.”

Stephen shook his head. “That’s not the kind of dynamic you want to start with your aunt. And also…” he cut himself off.

“What?” Peter sat up.

“We should tell her.” He sat up as well. “I don’t want to hide this.”

“Really?” Peter asked. “You want to tell Aunt May?”

“And anyone else if they ask. If we were to try and keep this a secret, it would just make it seem like we feel ashamed or guilty on some level. I don’t feel either of those things.”

Peter was quiet to the point where Stephen started to get nervous. He wondered if he’d just ruined everything, had been too presumptuous.

“Aunt May will come around, I think. But a lot of people aren’t going to like it.”

Stephen shrugged. “That’s their problem, not ours.”

“You really mean that?”

“Yes,” he insisted. “There would have been a time where I would have been concerned, but I’m not that man anymore. Happiness isn’t guaranteed, so there’s no point in not seizing it when you can.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“Do you need help gathering your things?” Stephen asked, standing up and putting everything back in its proper place with a wave of his hand.

“No, I was thinking that maybe I’d just take my laptop and phone with me and leave some clothes here, if that’s okay.”

Stephen smiled. “If that’s what you want.”

At Peter’s suggestion, they returned to the apartment in time to have dinner - Thai takeout - ready for May when she came home from her weekend of pulling double shifts. “No harm in softening her up, right?” (Stephen couldn’t find the fault in that suggestion.)

May, who they could tell was tired from the dark circles under her eyes and yawn she’d tried to stifle, looked relieved to see that she wouldn’t have to cook dinner or even expend energy going out to eat. “This is really thoughtful of you, Stephen, thanks.”

“It was Peter’s idea,” he admitted. “You’ve raised him well.”

May went and changed into more comfortable clothing and Peter set the table, motioning at Stephen to sit down.

“You rocked my world, but I can’t trust that your disaster vibes won’t spread from the kitchen to the table,” he said.

May returned with her hair down and wearing what Stephen had once heard Christine refer to as “athleisure wear” which basically appeared to Stephen to be clothes to lay comfortably about in. “Peter, can you run and pick up a gallon of milk really quick? I’m pretty sure ours is expired.”

Peter shrugged, but did as he was asked, assuring them both that he’d be back in a flash.

May sat in the chair across from the couch where Stephen sat. She crossed her legs and folded her hands over her knee. There was a look in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before and Stephen thought that maybe, just maybe he could see how Stark was leery of the woman.

“So, Stephen, you rocked Peter’s world, did you?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May's wanting an explanation, Peter feels the annoyance of playful familial betrayal, Stephen worked very hard for his MD and PhD, thank you very much, and also, Karen's a snitch.

**5.**

* * *

Stephen sat frozen. She’d heard. Which, fine, he and Peter had agreed not to hide it, but he’d been hoping to share the news about their relationship in a slightly more delicate way than her overhearing that he’d “rocked Peter’s world.”

“Well?” May prompted.

“That’s not how I would have put it, but Peter has a way with words,” Stephen said. He took a deep breath. “Peter and I slept together, yes.”

May’s face underwent a journey of expressions: anger, betrayal, disbelief, regret, concern, acceptance. “You slept with my nephew?”

“We slept together, yes.”

“And he wanted it? You didn’t use any kind of spell or threaten him?”

Stephen narrowed his eyes. “No, I didn’t. And that wasn’t a concern when you asked if I would let him stay with me over the weekend.”

“Probably because I didn’t think you’d take advantage of him!”

“That’s what you think happened?”

“What else could it be?” May asked.

“I think we should both wait until Peter gets back. If only because he had quite a few things to say when I told him I was worried that I was taking advantage.”

May gave him a hard look. “You brought it up?”

“That I could somehow be taking advantage of him? Of unintentionally coercing him? Of course, I did!” he said. “How could I not?”

“And what did Peter have to say?” she asked.

“That without magic he has no way of beating me in a physical fight,” came Peter’s answer. He stood in the doorway, holding a gallon of milk. He looked upset, but it wasn’t directed at Stephen. “And before you start on the age difference, it’s not like I can have a normal relationship with someone my own age. Not with everything I’ve done and seen and been through.”

“Peter-”

“I _died_! And sure, half of the population did, too. But they didn’t _feel_ it coming or happening. I _did_. No one else could understand it.”

“How?” May asked Stephen. “How is it you know what he went through?”

Peter quickly went put the milk away and came back to sit next to him. When he leaned against him, rather than sitting up straight, Stephen relaxed a bit.

“When we were on that planet, I looked through more than 14 million timelines. I was trying see what paths needed to be taken to ensure we could defeat Thanos.”

“You knew what was going to happen? To all of us?”

He nodded. “This was the one timeline where we won. There was no other way in the time I had to look.”

May sat back, looking very tired all of a sudden. “I just don’t know how to feel about this.”

“There’s really no wrong way to feel, but you could try to feel happy for me,” Peter offered. “I’m happy, at least.” He bumped his shoulder against Stephen’s arm. “You?”

“Ecstatic,” Stephen drawled. It had the intended effect of making Peter laugh, which in turn had the hoped-for effect of settling May down.

“So, you were a neurosurgeon. That means you know Peter’s brain is still developing, right?” she asked Stephen.

They’d agreed to sit down and eat. May _was_ hungry and Stephen could admit to himself, regardless of how stupidly old-fashioned it was, that he was happy to show both Peter and May that he was capable of providing. It was just cheap Thai takeout, not as if he’d hunted and taken down a wild boar with his bare hands and dragged it back to the cave in order to present his kill.

Stephen paused, forkful of spicy basil chicken half-way to his mouth.

“May, you can’t just keep asking him questions right when he’s about to take a bite of food!” Peter scolded.

It was the fifth time she’d done so. Considering it had taken so long for Peter to jump to his defense, he suspected Peter was actually enjoying the sight of Stephen in the hot seat for a change.

“He slept with my nephew, I think I’m entitled to some petty moments,” May countered.

“He’s sitting right here,” Stephen said.

Peter and May gave him identical unimpressed looks.

“There’s petty and then there’s just rude,” Peter said.

“It was actually both, since we’re being honest,” Stephen said, earning himself yet another unimpressed look.

“Anyways,” May continued. “Are you prepared to deal with having someone who's as much as a derp as Peter for a romantic partner? He might never grow out of it.”

Stephen nearly spit out his drink and had to cough to keep from choking once he’d managed to swallow.

“Really?” Peter demanded of May. “Turning on your own nephew like that?”

She shrugged. “Technically, you’re not my problem anymore,” she said. “You’re his.” She used a thumb to point at Stephen.

“What happened to ‘I would just feel so much better if you weren’t home alone all weekend!’, huh?” Peter asked, imitating May’s voice to an impressive degree.

“I did feel better knowing that,” May defended. “And I guess I feel even better knowing that I don’t have to worry as much. Because now it’s his job.” Again, she pointed at Stephen with a jerk of her thumb.

“He’s still sitting right here,” Stephen said.

He was ignored.

“Are you going to do this every time we get together?” Peter asked her.

“I haven’t decided,” May teased.

“If it’s going to be a feature, then it’s going to make coming home from college to visit really annoying.”

May’s expression changed instantly. “You’ve decided to go?” She asked. “Really?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Stephen talked some sense into me.”

“I didn’t,” Stephen insisted, taken aback at the now-adoring way May was looking at him. “I just gave him some advice.”

“You convinced him to go to college!” May said happily.

Before Stephen could fully process what was happening, May was up and throwing her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek repeatedly and holding him tight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Stephen, who had always been mildly uncomfortable with displays of affection, could only sit, stunned at the onslaught.

“Hey!” Peter interjected, coming to Stephen’s rescue. “ _I’m_ the one who made the decision!”

Mercifully, May let him go and repeated the same act with Peter. “I’m so proud of you!” She said. “Which school did you pick?”

Flushing pink, Peter managed to stammer out a “C-gah! Columbia!” between kisses and tight hugs and hair ruffling.

May, somehow, looked even happier. “That’s not far away at all!”

“You were worried I would have picked MIT?” Peter asked, wiping his face with the sleeves of his shirt now that May was back in her seat.

“It wouldn’t have been my first choice for you, no,” she said.

“Really? The place considered the best school for science and engineering wouldn’t have been your first pick for your science and engineering-obsessed nephew?” Peter questioned.

“If I thought it was because you actually _wanted_ to go there, of course it would have been. But you didn’t.”

This family of two was going to give him emotional whiplash, Stephen thought.

“Why would I have applied if I didn’t want to go?”

May gave him a sad sort of smile. “Because you thought it was what was expected of you and you hate disappointing Tony Stark.”

Peter did an uncomfortable little shuffle in his seat, suddenly very interested in his food now. “I’m kind of not talking to him right now,” he admitted.

May’s eyes narrowed. “What did he do?”

“We had a fight and he said some things that really made me upset. So I gave the suit back and told him I don’t want to be around him.” Peter stabbed at a piece of chicken with his fork. “I took care of it,” he insisted, when her expression didn’t relax.

“Did you know?”

Stephen set down the glass he’d started to raise for a drink. “I was there when it happened.” He didn’t elaborate.

“And you say you’ve handled it?” May asked Peter.

“For now,” Peter said with a shrug. “I’ll have to talk to him again eventually, but I’m not the one who messed up. He is.”

Stephen simply nodded when May looked to him for confirmation.

“Fine,” she said. “Wait, no. You gave the suit back? Peter, you _can’t_ go out in those pajama things again!”

“I know I can’t,” Peter said. “They were ripped to shreds after…” he trailed off, as if realizing that- “You didn’t know,” he finally said quietly.

“Know what?” May asked. She looked at Stephen, who shook his head.

“When I caught the Vulture, I might have had a warehouse dropped on me and been in a plane crash.”

For a moment, there was complete silence.

Then,

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Stephen cringed.

“You had a warehouse dropped on you? What does that even mean?”

“So, I thought I’d cornered Toomes, right? And we were doing the whole hero versus villain showdown banter thing and he kept firing these weapons at me and I kept dodging, thinking I was okay, you know? But it turns out he was actually taking out the structural support beams and I didn’t realize it. So, he flew away and it came tumbling down. On top of me.”

“And why weren’t you in the suit Stark gave you?” May asked after taking several long, deep breaths.

“Remember when I showed up in pajamas and crying? He took the suit away. Because of that ferry thing.”

“Did you know about this?” she asked Stephen.

“Some, not all,” he said.

“I knew what Toomes was up to, but no one would listen to me, so I had to go after him myself.” When he saw May open her mouth to retort, he hastened to add, “The police wouldn’t have been able to do anything! Happy wouldn’t take my calls, not that he ever did in the first place, and I didn’t even have Mr. Stark’s number.”

He drained his glass of water and smiled as it instantly refilled with a flick of Stephen’s finger.

“I got out from under the rubble and chased after him. Then more stuff happened, and the plane crashed, and he was about to die but I pulled him free and tied him up. And eventually, Mr. Stark gave me the suit back and asked me to join the Avengers. I said no to the joining part.”

“You could have been killed,” May said softly. "Peter, you could have died!

“But I wasn’t, I didn’t. Not until Thanos,” Peter said. “I’m back now and I’m okay. And really, I don’t need the suit from Mr. Stark.”

“Then how are you going to patrol?”

“Well, I won’t be doing it as much, because I’ll have college to focus on. But I do have a different suit that didn’t come from Mr. Stark.” Peter looked over at Stephen.

“You don’t need my permission to show her,” he said.

Peter pushed back from the table and stood. In a motion that was now nearly as familiar as breathing, he called up the suit.

“It’s so similar,” May said, walking around him, looking up and down. “But less Iron Man and more…”

“Me,” Stephen acknowledged. “The symbol you see is the Seal of the Vishanti. I drew heavily from their workings when I spelled Peter’s web shooters into relics.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It’s means these are magic now,” Peter answered, holding up his wrists so she could see the now-silver relics. “And kind of alive, too.” 

May did a double take. “Those are _alive_?”

“They’re sentient,” Stephen clarified. “Like all relics. Cloak is sentient, as well. As for what it means, it means that they’ll look after Peter, in their own way. Relics become very protective of the masters they serve. Even if I were to try and take them from Peter, I couldn’t. No one can.”

“So even if you two were to have a falling out, he’d still have them and be able to wear this suit?”

“Yes.”

May seemed to gather herself, thinking through what she’d learned. Stephen noticed how still Peter had gone, far past his usual fidgeting when anxious.

“Thank you,” May finally said as she turned to face Stephen. Much slower this time, she approached him and hugged him. “Thank you so much.” She drew back and, to his astonishment, kissed him on the forehead.

Peter used the relics and sent the suit back, leaving him in his normal clothing once again, relics back to their disguise of intricately etched metal and leather cuff bracelets. The rest of their meal was uneventful, with both May and Peter asking him about his experiences at Columbia (highly edited), if he ever visited his hometown in Nebraska (the answer was no), was his medical license still active (yes), and various other things that came to mind. It didn’t feel like an interrogation, even if he knew that a lot of it was May further sizing him up. Peter was simply curious by nature and he couldn’t exactly fault him for it. He’d had millions of timelines to learn about them, after all.

“Are we making you nervous?” May finally asked. “This must be so tiresome, all these questions.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. I mean, the next person I open up to will be the person who performs my autopsy, but this is fine.”

Peter laughed while May winced slightly. “Sorry,” she said.

“No, don’t be. Really, I’m fine.”

When they finished eating May cleared the table in order to give Peter and Stephen some time to themselves.

“Not tired of me yet?” Peter asked. “I know this was a lot.”

“If I wasn’t tired of you after more than 14 million timelines, I don’t think I ever will be,” Stephen said.

Peter let out a disbelieving little laugh. “You can’t just say stuff like that! I mean, there’s no way I’ll ever be that smooth!”

“I don’t want you to be anyone or anything you’re not.”

“Dude!”

Stephen just smiled.

May returned, offered Stephen coffee and a spot on the couch to watch a movie, which he politely declined. Regretfully, he had to return to the Sanctum. He had work to do and he rather thought that Peter could use some family time with his aunt. He promised Peter that he’d accompany him to the Compound that week when he went to meet with the Avengers and took his leave after kissing him softly.

They didn’t see each other in person until Wednesday afternoon, when Stephen opened up the Sanctum doors to Peter, who was currently texting someone.

“Don’t let me interrupt. I’m more than happy to leave these doors open so the Sanctum can cool down all of Midtown,” Stephen said.

“You’re so considerate like that,” Peter responded without looking up from his phone. He finished his message and stepped inside after slipping his phone into his pocket. Once Peter was inside, with the doors shut and locked behind him, Cloak (currently in the form of a red and gold scarf which should have looked ridiculous with Stephen’s navy tee-shirt and black jeans but didn’t) flew off of Stephen’s shoulders to wrap around him.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Peter said, giving scarf!Cloak a fond stroke.

“And me?” Stephen asked once Cloak had returned to wrap itself casually around his neck. “Did you miss me?”

Peter smiled. “Of course, I did,” he said. “Video calls just aren’t the same.”

“They’re not,” Stephen agreed. Those calls had been nice though, he had to admit. And, in one memorable case when Peter’s aunt was at work, _filthy_. “Is there anything you need before we leave?”

“Nope. I have my phone and these,” Peter flicked his wrists to show off the relics. “So, I’m pretty much ready for anything. You?”

“I’m ready when you are.”

He created a portal to just inside the Compound gates. They’d still have a way to walk up to the main building and Peter looked at him curiously.

“It will let the cameras see us,” Stephen explained. “Plus, there’s a nice breeze outside today.”

“Is the breeze for you or for Cloak?” Peter asked.

Stephen shrugged. “Both of us, really. It doesn’t get to play dress-up as much as it would like.”

They walked the long road up to the main building, where Sam had said he’d meet Peter.

The doors slid open when they reached the building.

_Welcome, Peter Parker and Mr. Strange._

“It’s Doctor,” Stephen instantly corrected.

_Welcome, Peter Parker and Mr. Doctor._

Peter snorted, which he hastily turned into a cough to cover his laughter.

“My title is doctor, not mister,” he said patiently. “Dr. Strange.”

_Welcome Peter Parker and Dr. Strange._

“Thank you.”

“You’re funny about that, aren’t you?”

Stephen looked at Peter. “I worked very hard to earn that title,” he said. “Even if my medical license was expired, I also have a Ph.D.”

“Makes sense,” Peter said. “If I make it that far, I’d want it acknowledged, too.”

They waited in the lobby while the AI relayed to Sam that his guests were here. It wasn’t a long wait by any means, but Cloak still shifted around his neck, bored. Peter had pulled out his phone yet again, eyes narrowed as he read something before his fingers flew fast and furious over the screen.

“Problem?”

“No, just stupid stuff,” Peter said as he put his phone away.

 _Mr. Wilson will be with you shortly,_ the AI announced.

“You’re not FRIDAY, are you?” Peter asked. “You don’t sound like her at all.” The voice for the AI sounded more British than Irish.

_I am PRISMA. Programed Replacement Intelligence System Monitor and Assistant._

“That’s different,” Peter said. “What happened to FRIDAY?”

“Stark took her back for personal use,” said Sam, who was strolling their way. “She’s too attached to only listening to him to do us much good. So now we got our lady PRISMA.”

He shook hands with both Peter and Stephen. “Didn’t know you were coming, Doc.”

“I invited him,” Peter said. “He was with me when I got your message over the weekend.”

“Stark said you had no interest in group training,” Sam said as he led them to where the others were presumably gathered.

“I’m not necessarily against it,” Stephen said. “But I don’t recall being asked. I suppose I just put off a certain vibe.”

“We wouldn’t say no to having you around. That magic stuff you do is pretty nifty.”

“I do enjoy being nifty.”

“Man, the Team is gonna have a field day with you,” Sam told him. “Maybe you can give Little Red some pointers, too.”

“Little Red?” Peter asked.

“Wanda. She’s having a rough time of it. She’s lost everything but she’s keeping it together somehow. But when her emotions spike, so does that magic of hers.”

“I’ll speak with her,” Stephen said. He hadn’t forgotten how she’d made Thanos feel true terror on the battlefield that day - or how he’d sensed that she had barely tapped into what she could do. She was powerful, but untrained, a liability.

“I know it’d make Stark feel better,” Sam said.

The Avengers were gathered inside a large conference room, conversing. Stephen recognized all of them.

Stark was there, speaking with Colonel Rhodes and saved-by-the-rat Scott Lang. Hope Van Dyne was talking with Sharon Carter, who he’d not met in this timeline but had in many, many others. Barnes was off in a corner by himself, and in the opposite corner by herself was Wanda. Another person present he’d met in different timelines was Kate Bishop, an archer who was every bit (if not more) as talented and accurate as Clint Barton (who was absent, having finally retired).

“Welcome back, Peter!” Scott had looked over to see them with Sam.

“Hey,” Peter said, giving a little wave.

“And welcome back Magic Man!” Scott added. “I didn’t get your name the first time and I know that sounds bad but there was so much going on and I’d say that I’ll do better, but I probably won’t.”

“Dr. Stephen Strange,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.” It actually was. Scott was hilarious.

“Hey there Doc,” Tony said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here! Figured you’d be busy aligning your chakras or holding an incense rave in a temple or something.”

“Incense raves only happen every other full moon,” Stephen offered blandly.

“And Peter, so glad you could make it. I have some suit upgrades I’d like you to take a look at,” Tony continued, undeterred.

“We’ll see,” Peter said distantly. He looked around. “Where’s Captain Rogers? I know he gave you a shield,” he said to Sam. “but I thought it was like a ‘you take this weekend and I’ll take the next weekend’ sort of deal.”

Stephen could see Barnes’ expression darken and Sharon’s grip on her telescoping baton tighten. Sam sighed heavily next to him, and even Tony looked uncomfortable.

“I thought that too. But when he went to return the Infinity Stones over the weekend, he decided to take the scenic route back,” Sam said.

Stephen was able to read between the lines. He’d stayed in the past. Moronic man.

“That’s a nice way of phrasing it,” Kate chimed in. “Dude is _so_ old now. Like, he was always a geriatric in spirit, but now he’s got the body to match.”

“Did you even know Cap?” Scott asked her.

“Yeah. I attended one of the support groups he ran,” Kate said, ignoring. “After half the planet went poof.”

“So, it’s good we’re all here,” Sam said, getting everyone’s attention. He motioned for Peter and Stephen to have a seat. Peter ignored the seat next to Tony and sat next to Hope, with Stephen sitting on his other side.

“The recent skirmish with that Electro lady aside - good job Spidey - it’s been pretty quiet. But it’s still a good idea to train together so we can get an idea of each other’s fighting styles as well as get used to fighting next to people we don’t really know yet.”

“We’ve already fought together though,” said Wanda. “Against Thanos.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Kate. “I wasn’t invited. Neither was Lucky 13 over there.” She pointed towards Sharon then turned to eye Stephen. “Why _didn’t_ you round us up?”

Stephen used a hand to rub his eyes. He wasn’t in the mood to explain himself. “You were in the middle of saving an apartment building from Russian gangsters in Bed Stuy and as for Ms. Carter,” he looked at Sharon who mostly just looked curious. “The work you were doing was too important to interrupt. I trust you finished it?”

Sharon simply nodded and ignored the curious looks thrown her way.

“We’ve fought in similar groupings before,” Sam stated, reclaiming the floor. “But we need the practice, since it’s probably not going to be an entire army of us again any time soon. So, any concerns?”

Peter raised his hand. “I uh, I’m not really sure how effective I’ll be as a team member. I’m starting college in the fall and juggling being Spider-Man with high school was hard enough.”

“That’s understandable,” Sam said. “Are you looking for more of an on-call kind of deal?”

“That would be a little difficult, since he’ll be in Massachusetts,” said Tony. “The Dean called and said he’s still waiting to hear back from you, Peter.”

“Actually, I’m going to Columbia,” Peter said, not looking at Tony. “They offered a full scholarship and it’s close to home, so I accepted.”

“A full ride to Columbia?” Hope asked. “Well done!”

“It’s a great school. Congratulations, Kid,” said Rhodey.

Tony looked as if he’d just swallowed something sour. “Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but uh, congratulations.” He looked at Stephen. “Didn’t you go to Columbia?”

“It’s where I earned my MD and Ph.D., yes,” Stephen said.

“I don’t suppose you had anything to do with Peter’s decision?”

“He didn’t,” Peter said, probably wanting to head off an argument before it could start. “The only influence Stephen had was in convincing me to even go college.”

Tony didn’t look like he knew what to say to that.

“I know this is the second time I’m turning down being an Avenger, but I really want to focus on school,” Peter said. “I’m not going to stop being Spider-Man, but I’m not going to be as active. Obviously if there’s an emergency and you guys need me, I’ll be there.”

“I think that’s very mature of you,” Sam said. “If you’d like, you can send me your schedule once you get settled in at school and maybe we can work something out where you come train with us on a weekend.”

“That’s what I was hoping for, honestly,” Peter said.

“If you’re stepping back, who’s going to patrol and look after Queens?” Tony asked.

“If I’d picked MIT, I wouldn’t have been able to patrol anyways and somehow you didn’t have a problem with that,” Peter said sharply. “But, like Stephen pointed out to me, there are plenty of superheroes in this city. Things will balance out.”

“True,” Kate said. “There are like, a four enhanced people in Hell’s Kitchen alone. I’m over in Bed Stuy but I’m happy to go wherever.”

“Listen, Merida, can you just not, for like, one whole minute?” Tony asked, frustrated.

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable,” Sharon said. “Peter has the rest of his life to do this whole Avenging thing. He should be able to focus on his education right now if that’s what he wants.”

“Right, and how are you even going to patrol when you do decide you want to? Because you threw the suit back in my face,” Tony said. “And a set of cobbled together pajamas isn’t going to work.”

Stephen’s hands tingled with the need to throttle the man. Around his neck, Cloak twitched as if reading his mind and was in full agreement. When he looked at Peter, he calmed down. Peter himself didn’t look too bothered; he looked smug, instead.

“Why would you give the suit back?” Rhodes asked Peter before thinking for a moment and whirling on his friend. “Tony, what did you do?”

“Look, there was a disagreement, I said some stupid stuff, and Peter here gave the suit back, okay? I apologized,” Tony said.

“What did you say?” Rhodey was rubbing his forehead. “Tell me you weren’t yelling at him for fighting Electro.”

“You know I can’t lie to you, Platypus,” Tony said.

“We’ve been over this Tony. Even if he should have called for back-up-” Rhodey started.

“I couldn’t,” Peter said. “I tried and I couldn’t. Ask Karen. She’s still interfaced here even through FRIDAY’s gone, right? Karen? Did I try to call for help when fighting Electro?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Tony said quickly. “My AI, my rules.”

“Stark,” Hope said. “Let the AI answer.”

_Good afternoon, Peter. I’ve missed you. When fighting Electro, you attempted to contact Mr. Stark five times and was unsuccessful due to the-_

“Okay, that’s enough! I had the phones on silent while I was working in my lab. My bad.”

“Why didn’t you try to get a hold of one of us?” Hope asked Peter. “I’m not judging, because I saw the footage and you did a great job. But Stark’s not the only person who can help you.”

“Karen?” Peter asked before Tony could say anything. The man looked as though he were about to face the gallows.

_Peter did not have the appropriate permissions to contact registered Avengers at the time of the encounter._

There was a beat of silence.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's called to the floor, Peter lets him know what's what, something resembling equality is reached, Wanda finally starts to feel some hope, and there's an overprotective uncle moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so nervous posting this chapter. I feel like there are a lot of expectations riding on it, but in the end I can only write what makes me happy as the author and serves my vision of the story.

**6.**

* * *

  
The reaction came from who Stephen least expected.

Barnes was out of his chair, furiously towering over Stark. “He’s a kid and you didn’t let him call us if he needed help?” Rhodey pulled Barnes away, guiding him towards his seat.

“I’m not proud of it, okay?” Tony said, collapsed back in his chair, looking drained. He turned to face Peter. “As soon as I realized that you _couldn’t_ call for help even when I’d told you to, I fixed it. It was a holdover from when you were like, 15 and I was trying to keep you getting caught up in all of this.”

“You turned the protocols off?” Peter asked. “Even the one for when you’re busy in the lab?”

“All of them,” Tony said. “If you wanted to use the suit to hack into and take over the Pentagon, you could.”

“Okay, Tones, let’s not go that far,” Rhodey said quickly. “Considering that’s technically treason.”

“Who in this room hasn’t committed some light treason?” Sharon asked idly, oblivious to the incredulous frown Rhodey gave her.

“I can’t believe you locked him out!” Barnes said, still looking murderous. “You give the kid a suit to fight and then you lock him out!”

“I’m not a kid!” Peter snapped.

“Right. You sure were when you caught my fist in Germany!” He turned on Tony. “You brought a child to a fight like that? What were you thinking? Don’t you know how dangerous I am? How dangerous we _all_ are?”

“I wasn’t actually supposed to fight,” Peter said. “Just stay in the background, web you all up.”

“Like that makes it better!” He shook his head. “Jesus Christ, Stark! What’s the matter with you?”

“Do you want the list chronologically or alphabetically?” Tony asked lightly. “I screwed the pooch; I’m not denying it. I’ve apologized and I’ve disabled the protocols to make sure it doesn’t ever happen again. Would everyone like to tie me up and take turns throwing rotten fruit at me? Will that help?”

Wanda, who had been silent throughout, stood. Stephen didn’t miss how Tony _flinched_ at that motion. The man really feared the witch. “You’re scared,” she told him. “Not of us, our anger,” she motioned to everyone in the room. “But of what could be.”

“I wasn’t aware you got your degree in psychology, Ephelba,” Tony snarked. But from the bleak look in his eyes and how pale he’d gone; Stephen could tell that he was barely holding on.

“Why are you scared?” Peter asked. “What about me being Spider-Man and doing my job is so scary to you?”

“Because…” Tony looked down and pulled out a pair of dark red sunglasses. He slid them on and took a moment before looking up. “You _died_ , Pete. You died. Scared and begging not to go. In my arms. And there was nothing I could do or say or build to stop it. I dragged you into this and I got you killed.”

He sat up and folded his hands on the table. “I had to come back to Earth knowing that I failed you in every way I feared, and it broke me. I have no idea how I pieced myself back together, but I know I won’t be able to do it again. Call me selfish, call me messed up and the worst goddamned mentor in existence, but I can’t go through that again, Peter. I can’t.”

“Okay, I think this is the part where we all go and find something to do,” Rhodey said in the resulting silence. “C’mon. Even you too, Miss Robin Hood,” he added when Kate folded her arms petulantly. “Private show, let’s move it.”

The others trickled out and Stephen looked at Peter. “Do you want me to stay?”

“I do, but it’s probably better if you don’t,” he said. “Go on, I’ll be fine.”

Peter moved to take a seat directly across from Tony.

“You’re really stupid sometimes, you know that?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” Tony sputtered out. “Did you seriously just call me stupid?”

“Pushing people away isn’t protecting them; it just hurts them even more when they realize that they’re the reason you’re so miserable.”

“Yeah, you’d think I’d have learned that lesson by now, huh?” Tony said. “Look, I really am sorry for how I yelled at you that day.”

“Which one? It’s happened a couple of times.”

Tony hung his head. “I know, and I’m sorry about that, too.”

“Are you sorry because you did it or are you sorry because now everyone knows how much of an asshole you’ve been?” Peter asked.

“You really need to stop pulling your punches,” Tony mumbled. “All of it. And I'm especially sorry for what I said about your uncle. That was uncalled for.”

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Peter said. “You just show up in my life out of the blue because you figured out who I am and then you took me on this crazy adventure before you just seemed to decide I wasn’t worth your time. You stuck Happy on me, and that guy is seriously misnamed. He acted like being a contact for me was a punishment or something. I had no idea if you even listened to any of those reports I sent you and do you know how stupid I feel, looking back at that? As if anything I was doing mattered at all.”

“It mattered, Kid-”

“Stop calling me that!” Peter snapped. “I’m not a kid, okay? I’m not a child! And I’m definitely not _your_ child.”

Tony looked stricken. “I-”

“You’re not my dad, Mr. Stark. I’ve never asked for you to be.”

“That’s fair,” Tony said. “That’s more than fair.”

Peter sighed. “Why’d you do it? Any of it?”

Tony was quiet for a long time.

“I look at you and I see myself, sometimes. Not me _now_ , of course, or even 15 years ago. But me when I was some prepped up little freshman at MIT determined to conquer the world. Young and brilliant with his whole life ahead of him. I ruined myself, you know, as much as I like to blame it on dear old Dad. I fell in with the wrong people - on purpose - and I made every wrong choice there was to make.”

Tony sighed and leaned back, not looking at him. “I see you and how young and brilliant you are, and I think, ‘ _that’s_ who I should have been, _that’s_ someone who actually matters.’ I had that suit made for you long before I came to your apartment that day, because here was someone who was doing what I've never been able to do, which is look out for the little guy.”

Peter’s heart hurt. “You still took it away,” he said.

“I was scared. Not so much that those people could have died, I didn’t give a damn about them, and yeah, I know how much of a terrible person that makes me. I was scared because you could have died. You’re strong but that ferry would have ripped you in two.”

“I had to do something,” Peter said. “No one was listening to me!”

“ _I_ was!” Tony said. “Every report came to me and I listened.”

“But I had no way of knowing that! You weren’t talking to me unless it was to yell at me and Happy can’t even stand me. He never said anything!”

“Happy can’t stand a lot of people,” Tony said. “And I shouldn’t have kept you in the dark, I should have let you know that I was taking care of it.”

“Yeah, you should have. I can’t just ignore it when bad things are about to happen. Not if there’s a chance I can help.”

“I know.”

“You weren’t the reason I died up there,” Peter said. “It was random, remember? If I’d stayed back on earth, I’d have still been one of the victims. It wasn’t you, it was just… luck of the draw. And Parker Luck is the worst sort of luck.”

Tony didn’t seem to know what to say, so Peter pressed on.

“Why wasn’t I allowed to contact the others, even after you all undid the Snap?”

“I’d originally set that protocol up to keep you shielded from the Accords, because I don’t trust Ross further than a kitten can throw him… and to keep you shielded from me,” Tony said. “I didn’t turn it off after everything because I guess I was still hoping you’d stick with helping little old ladies cross the street and rescuing cats. Not getting roped into something that’s already fallen apart once.”

Tony finally returned his gaze to Peter. “I meant what I said that day. I want you to be better than me, Peter. I don’t want you to make the same mistakes that I’ve made.”

“I’m going to make mistakes though,” Peter said. “Everyone does. I can’t live up to some expectation you have that I’ll be perfect. And, even if you do see yourself when you look at me, you have to remember that I’m _not_ you. I’m _me_. Keeping me in the dark didn’t help me, it ended up hurting me, and you’re not supposed to hurt people you care about.”

Tony hung his head. “I’ll do better,” he said. “I will. You want me to keep my distance? Done. You need my help for anything? Unless it takes me away from Morgan, I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” Peter said. “I forgive you. This time.”

“It’s more than I deserve,” Tony said. “Doubt the team will feel the same way.”

Peter winced. “I’m not stepping into that mess,” he said. “You’re on your own there.”

“Also fair,” Tony said. “It’s a good thing I’m not petty enough to wait until Morgan arrives from daycare and keep her around so the others don’t lay into me.”

“You want to do that though, don’t you?” Peter asked.

“Desperately.”

“She’s adorable.”

Tony smiled, and it was softest Peter had ever seen him. “Morgan is the best thing in my life,” he said. “Morgan and Pepper.”

“You’ve messed up a lot with me, but I’ve seen you with her. You’re a good dad.”

“It’s the most important job I’ve ever had. And it's my favorite one.”

The team relocated to a common area that had doors wide open to the outside grounds. There wasn’t much to do while Peter and Tony had their come-to-Vishanti moment. He was tempted - so tempted - to enter the Mirror Dimension and listen into their conversation, but Stephen refrained. Peter could handle himself, and he wasn’t about to break his trust.

Instead, Stephen, who’d decided to wait outside in the fresh air, found himself speaking with Wanda Maximoff. The young woman he saw looked so much different from the vengeful entity he’d seen rain destruction down on Thanos that day on the battlefield. This woman kept to herself, shrinking down as if to keep from taking up space and being noticed. The sadness that radiated around her was nearly suffocating and Stephen wondered if her death at the hands of the Snap had, in some way, been a relief to her.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Maximoff,” he greeted, sitting next to her on a bench.

“Hello,” she said. “You’re the wizard,” she added.

“Sorcerer,” he clarified. “Doctor Stephen Strange. I’m a practitioner of the mystic arts.” He explained a bit about what the mystic arts entailed.

“You gained your abilities in a natural way?” She asked, after his mini dissertation.

“I suppose you could call studying and freeing your mind natural, yes,” he allowed. “You didn’t?”

She shook her head balefully. “No. I was full of anger and fear, blinded to the intentions of bad men offering false hope. The mind stone, it gave me this-” she held up a hand and let red magic dance on her fingers. “But it didn’t take away the anger or the fear. It didn’t help me protect my home or my people. It's only led to more pain.”

“There’s a Chinese proverb saying that the man who seeks revenge should dig two graves in preparation. One for the subject of his revenge and his own.”

“I had a grave,” Wanda said. “It didn’t keep. I wish it had; I think. In that place we were, I didn’t feel the pain of losing everything I loved most. I came back, and it’s still there.”

“Pain can be a strength, if you let it,” Stephen told her. “When you accept the emotions you fear most, you’re no longer a prisoner to them. And that gives you the power to keep going.”

Wanda looked at him. “Is that what you did, Doctor Stephen Strange?”

He nodded. “I was once a broken shell of a man - angry, bitter, and desperate. When I discovered the mystic arts, I discovered a new way of existing - not free of the pain and fear but working in and around it. I can take you to a place where you can learn to do the same.”

“This place, the people there, they can teach me?”

“If you’re willing. It’s not easy work, but it is worth it.”

Wanda smiled. “I am no stranger to hard work, and I have nothing left to lose. This place, I would like to learn.”

Stephen conjured a card. “Stop by this address and we can discuss things further.”

“I will do that.” Wanda looked back to the open doors. “Do you think your friend Peter fares well?”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Stark, for all his flaws, would never hurt him on purpose. His care for Peter is one of the biggest reasons we’re even alive again.”

“He has a funny way of showing it,” she said. “But, I’m not exactly a shining example of expressing emotions in good ways.”

“You must fit right in with this crowd,” Stephen teased.

“We are all a little broken, I think.”

He didn’t disagree.

“Hey Doc!”

Stephen turned around to see Sam standing at the doors. “They’re done.”

This time around, they weren’t in a conference room, but sitting in the common area. Stephen sat in an armchair, and Peter ignored the few spots left between Avengers on the sofas in order to sit on the arm of his chair. Tony sat in another armchair, notably as far out of Barnes’ reach as it was possible to be without being too obvious.

“So,” Sam started. “You two get things sorted out?”

Tony looked to Peter, clearly not wanting to speak for him.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “We’re good. Whatever you guys think or feel, it doesn’t need to be on my behalf. I’m okay.”

Barnes snorted.

“I can respect that,” Sam said. “But what I need to know is can everyone here still work with Stark after this?”

“You know you messed up, right?” Rhodey asked Tony.

“Oh yeah,” Tony said. “Not quite accidentally creating a murder-bot bad, but badly.”

“And you can’t keep us from contacting each other,” Hope said. “We need to know that we can count on each other.”

“You’re right,” Tony agreed. Hope looked surprised at his easy acknowledgement. “Which is why I’d like for you and Jiminy Cricket - if you’re willing - to help me reprogram PRISMA. That way there’s a check and balance system to the protocols and I’m not the only one at the wheel.”

“That would actually make me feel a lot better,” Kate said. Sharon nodded.

“You still brought in a kid to fight your battles, Stark,” Barnes said.

“I’m not a child,” Peter said.

“You _were_ ,” Barnes snapped. “Jesus, you were what? 14?”

“Fifteen, and in case you’ve forgotten, you couldn’t lay a hand on me. I’m might be younger than everyone here, but I’m not helpless.”

“Listen Frosty,” Tony said (bravely directing Barnes’ attention on himself, in Stephen’s opinion). “Believe me, I get where you’re coming from. The only problem with that is the fact that telling him not to get involved doesn’t work. I mean, you can try, if you want. But it is _not_ effective. He just goes out and does it anyways. I’m speaking from painful, painful experience here.”

“He’s right,” Peter said. “If I have the chance to stop something bad from happening, I have to take it.”

Barnes grimaced. “Lost one reckless, self-sacrificing idiot who doesn’t know when to stay down and gained another.”

“Anyone else have anything to say?” Sam asked. “You’re awful quiet there, Doc.”

“I’ve spoken with Stark and he knows my feelings on the matter. And if Peter insists he’s okay, then so am I,” Stephen said.

“You’re following the lead of someone who just graduated high school?” Hope asked.

“I’m trusting a colleague to know his own mind,” Stephen corrected. “I’ve fought beside Peter multiple times. I trust his judgment.”

Peter leaned against him briefly in gratitude.

“Can I just say something?” Tony asked.

“If you must,” Barnes mumbled.

“I’m sorry. Not just for how I’ve treated Peter, but for how I was misleading you guys. I thought I was protecting him somehow, but I really wasn’t, in the end. I won’t do it again. In fact, I’m stepping back. By like, 45%. More R&D, less field time. Still, if you guys want to throw me in the penalty box or bench me or something, I understand, and I won’t argue. Whatever it takes.”

“Can we still throw rotten fruit at you?” Kate asked.

“Only if you promise to miss,” Tony said.

“I never miss,” Kate said stiffly.

“Except with that lady you were trying to chat up the other night,” Sharon said slyly.

Kate’s face went bright red and Sharon laughed. “How was I supposed to know she was married?”

Tension broken for the time being, everyone seemed to relax.

It had gone far better than he’d hoped and not nearly as badly as he’d expected, so there was that. Peter let himself lean heavily into Stephen after a bit and he could practically feel the stress leave him. They ended up talking about what college experiences they’d had, if they’d gone.

Tony wisely refrained from sharing any exploits during his time at MIT. “We’ve all seen that I’m a bad enough role model,” he said to Peter. “You don’t need the gritty details.”

“Just watch his sex tapes online,” Kate advised. “They’ll give you a pretty good summary.”

“Those were taken down,” Tony said testily.

“Awww,” Kate drawled. “It’s cute that you think so.”

“ _Don’t_ watch his sex tapes,” Rhodey said emphatically. “There was more to our time at MIT than Tony making an ass of himself by showing his ass.”

Tony started whistling a tune that Stephen immediately recognized ( _Tarzan Boy, Baltimora, 1985, from Living in the Background_ ), though it was clear the others didn’t. Rhodey stilled and whirled on him. “We don’t talk about that!” he said said in a panicked hush.

“Then maybe don’t bring up _my_ time at MIT,” Tony said cheerfully. “Wilson, where’d you go?”

Sam shrugged. “United States Air Force. I didn’t have much interest in higher ed. Anything I want to learn, I read up on.”

Scott talked about his time in both undergrad and graduate school. Hope had several degrees to her name, ranging from chemistry to business management. Sharon had attended Duke University and upon graduating in three years, had been swept into SHIELD almost immediately.

“Doesn’t anyone want to know about me?” Kate asked.

Tony heaved a sigh. “Where did you go, Kate?”

“The school of life,” she said with a toothy smile and a thumbs up. “Class is always in session.”

“I’m being tested,” Tony muttered and then turned his attention to Peter. “Look, if there’s anything you need for when you move into your dorm at that place, let me know. I’ll play a little coding game and make sure you get a single, if that’s okay.”

Peter couldn’t argue. He’d _have_ to have a single, if he was going to keep his identity as Spider-Man a secret. Tony hacking their systems was the only way that was guaranteed to make it happen. “Okay.”

“Speaking of rooms,” Sam started. He asked Peter about keeping a room at the Compound, for when he visited some weekends while away at college. “Whatever you need for it, we’ll make it happen.”

Peter tried to think. He had his laptop that he upgraded as he was able. And his Stark Phone, which was the best, even if it was something Tony could easily monitor if he wanted. He had clothes and his relics so mostly he was good. When it came down to it, he only had one thought.

“Where do you get your sheets and blankets?” he asked Stephen. “They’re super comfortable. I’d like those, if I can get them.”

Stephen opened his mouth to answer but Kate beat him to it. “How do you know if his bedding is comfortable or not?” she asked. Then, she looked between them and slowly, grinned. “Oh. My. Thor. This day just keeps getting better and better!”

“They’re not sleeping together,” Rhodey said to her, exasperated. He looked at Stephen, eyes narrowed. “Right?”

Peter and Stephen exchanged hundreds of words in the look they shared.

“He’s only 18!” Hope hissed. 

Scott opened his mouth as if to say something but then shut it, apparently at a loss for words. Kate was looking around the room with no small amount of glee, Barnes was glaring at Stephen, and Sharon just looked bored. Wanda, Stephen noticed, was watching him and Peter closely, as if trying to determine something.

The sound of a gauntlet powering up was heard and to Stephen’s genuine surprise, it _wasn’t_ from Tony.

“Peter,” Rhodey said, still looking angry. “Do you mind moving so I can deal with this?”

Peter shifted and for a brief second, Stephen worried that Peter had decided that he wasn’t worth it, that _they_ weren’t worth it. But instead, Peter slid off of the arm of the chair and into Stephen’s lap, where he made a very convenient - if unasked for, and they _would_ be having words about that later - human shield.

“There’s nothing to deal with,” Peter said. “I’m 18, he didn’t force me, and before anyone even thinks about mentioning it, my aunt already knows. She’s cool.”

“You can’t be serious!” Rhodey said.

“So what? I’m allowed to fight but I can’t be with someone?” Peter asked.

“It’s not that,” Hope said. “The power imbalance-”

“Isn’t a thing,” Peter said.

“Peter-”

“Stephen?” Peter asked, leaning back into him. “Can you beat me in a fight without using magic?”

“No,” Stephen answered honestly just as he had that day in the Sanctum. “And even if I tried with magic, there’s every chance your relics would stop me.”

“So, you can’t overpower me. And what about seeing someone your own age?”

Stephen gave a wry smile. “Considering I’ve technically lived millions of years, that’s never going to be a possibility.”

“See?” Peter said, looking around the room. “We’re good. You don’t need to worry.”

Rhodey whirled on Tony, who was out of his seat and just leaning against the counter of the bar, soda in hand, saying nothing.

“How do you not have something to say about this?” he demanded. “You take over-protectiveness of Peter to a new level and now you’re silent?”

“I promised not to keep interfering with his life,” Tony said with a careless wave of his hand. “This is me, not interfering.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Rhodey said with a shake of his head. “Of all the things to back off on…”

“I was screwing people far older than when I was younger than Peter,” Tony said. “I can’t exactly judge.”

“If this is really going to be a problem for you all,” Peter said to Sam. “We can just not come back.” He shrugged. “I’m Spider-Man whether I’m an Avenger or not. And your being Sorcerer Supreme isn’t dependent on being an Avenger either, right?” he asked Stephen.

“No, my life would actually be far less complicated if I didn’t offer my assistance,” Stephen admitted, wrapping his arms around Peter. Cloak changed from its scarf form to drape over them, adding yet another layer of defense against whatever attack could come.

“No one’s saying you have to leave,” Sam said. He ran a hand over his face. “I can’t say I’m super happy about this development, but I’d imagine that anyone trying to stop it from happening is just signing themselves up for disappointment.”

“Are you happy?”

Peter looked over to see Wanda still watching them intently. He nodded. “Yes.”

“Stephen makes you happy?” she asked.

He looked up at Stephen and smiled. “Yeah, he does.”

“And you feel the same?” she asked Stephen.

“I do.”

“So long as it stays this way, I do not see a problem. Life is too easily cut short to insist on misery.” She looked around the room. “I would think that you all would understand that more than most.”

Rhodey powered the gauntlet off and it retreated into the casing of his watch. “You really are happy with him?” he asked Peter.

“Yes,” Peter said emphatically.

He looked at Stephen. “Keep it that way.”

“So far today I’m the only one who has been,” Stephen said.

Rhodey walked past everyone to the bar. He poured himself a drink and downed it. “Whatever,” he said, pouring another and standing next to Tony. “Carry on.”

“Right,” Kate said into the silence. “Anyone else ready to be next guest on _Jerry Springer: Avengers Edition_?”

They all looked at each other. For a moment, Stephen wondered if Peter would show off his new suit. However, Peter seemed content just sitting in Stephen’s lap, wrapped in his arms and Cloak. For all that Stephen was uncomfortable with public displays of affection outside of hand-holding, he was okay. Let them see how comfortable they were together.

It seemed as though no other news was going to rock the team.

“I suppose now is as good time as any to tell you all that I’m leaving,” said Wanda.

“OH, COME ON!” exclaimed Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. So, I know that some of the amazing people who have been reading this have been waiting for Tony to have his head served on a platter, but there was honestly never going to be some big brawl over it. I understand if you're disappointed. 
> 
> The intention in this was that he was acting out of a place of ignorance and fear and his own issues and not malice. He wasn't trying to fuck Peter over, and Peter gets that, even if he's not happy about it. So their talk and Tony admitting his issues and sincerely apologizing, I feel, puts them on footing where they're far more equal than they've been before. Peter was Tony's biggest motivation for agreeing to help with the time heist and now he has to deal with the fact that he's going to have to earn Peter's trust and goodwill back. It's a hell of a blow.
> 
> The other Avengers still aren't super happy, but Tony's admitted he fucked up, apologized to everyone involved, and committed to making an effort to do better. (Letting other people help code his AIs, WHAT?!) If he doesn't... _then_ there will probably be a brawl.
> 
> I love Kate Bishop. So much. Writing her is so much fun and a huge mental relaxant while writing this chapter.
> 
> Barnes is doing some _serious_ projecting at the moment. He sees skinny young thing who's down to fight against better judgment and thinks Skinny!Steve. Who also fucked off to the past and came back as ancient and is probably in some retirement community going to bed at 5pm and eating green jello. So Barnes in a lot of ways is just irritated in general and now he has some reckless punk to keep from getting killed again. (He'll come around.)
> 
> Rhodey is not having his best day ever. I feel bad for the guy.
> 
> The suit reveal is coming. I promise.


	7. Chapter 7

**7.**

* * *

  
“You’re quitting?” Sharon asked Wanda, once everyone had settled down. “Why?”

Wanda shook her head. “I’m not quitting so much as, ‘stepping back’ like Tony described. Stephen knows a place that can teach me how to better use and control my powers. I’m going to go there.”

“First you steal our Spider and now you’re stealing our Witch?” Kate accused Stephen. “Is there anyone else here that you want?”

“Not even if I was paid,” Stephen said.

“So, Pete’s off to Columbia and Red’s off to Hogwarts,” Tony said. “It’s like we have our very own Yoko,” he muttered.

“That’s rather cliché of you,” Stephen replied.

“I walk into a room and others flinch,” Wanda continued. “I understand why - I am dangerous. But I don’t want the people I consider friends, if not family to be afraid of me.”

No one could argue with her.

“Now we’re down Wanda and have Peter on a part-time gig. I can’t help but feel like we need to bring someone else in,” Rhodey said.

“Oh!” Scott exclaimed. He was nearly shaking in excitement. “I know someone! I mean, _we_ -” he motioned to Hope. “We know someone.”

“She doesn’t trust SHIELD,” Hope cautioned.

“That puts her in good company, then,” said Sharon. “I don’t think anyone here does. I certainly don’t.”

“Your Great Aunt helped _found_ SHIELD!” Rhodey exclaimed.

“And it was immediately infiltrated by HYDRA. It’s a little upsetting to find out you were working for secret Nazis.”

“Almost as bad as realizing you were forced to work for public Nazis,” Barnes added.

“Okay, that’s fair though,” Kate said. “I can’t argue with that.”

“Can we get back to the subject at hand?” Sam asked loudly. “This woman, you think she’d be willing to talk to us?”

“Yeah!” Scott said. “You’ll love Ava, she’s great!”

“I like your bracelets,” Kate told Peter. She reached to touch one and her hand was pushed back before it could land. “What the hell?” She yelped.

“Oh,” Peter said, looking at Stephen. Cloak had gone back to its scarf form and Peter had taken mercy on Stephen’s lap and returned to his perch on the arm of the chair. “I didn’t know they did that.”

“It’s a deterrent,” Stephen said. “To make sure they can’t be taken away.” He touched the other one, felt the magic coursing through it. He was glad that the relics didn’t see him as a potential threat to their master.

“They’re magic?” Sam asked. “You have magic bracelets?”

By now they had the attention of everyone.

Peter stood and conjured his new suit.

“Whoa!” Kate exclaimed. “That is seriously cool!”

“Very Assassins’ Creed,” Scott added.

“You have a magic suit?” Tony asked, circling him and looking it up and down. “Huh. No AI?”

Peter pulled the hood back and the face mask dissolved. “No AI, but these are sentient.” He tapped the shooters together. The suit disappeared and he was back in his regular clothes. Then he conjured it again. “They protect me, help when I’m fighting.”

“What about Karen?” Tony asked, looking more than a little hurt. “I built her for you.”

“I don’t need her anymore,” Peter said. “She wasn’t really mine, right? She reported everything to you.”

“To keep you safe!” Tony insisted before he took a deep breath. “Right. Backing off, no baby-monitor protocol.”

“ _That’s_ what you called it?” Rhodey asked, exasperated. “Tony!”

“I thought I was being clever at the time,” Tony defended. “And in my defense, I was spiraling after, you know, literally everything.”

“You could always give Karen to Morgan,” Peter suggested. “I’m sure she’d like a friend.”

Tony considered. “Not a bad idea. I’d have to run it by Pep, but it’s not a bad idea. I hate decommissioning my children.”

He circled Peter again and again. “What kind of safety specs does it have?” He asked Stephen.

“Everything I could think of,” Stephen said. He listed some off. “We’ve tested it out in the Mirror Dimension, and I can tweak the enchantments and runes as needed.”

“You made something that can’t be taken away from him,” Tony said, quieter this time.

Stephen merely nodded.

“Good. That’s good.”

“It protects my identity, too,” Peter announced. “In case I get unmasked. Even if someone snaps a picture or takes a video, you can’t tell it’s me.”

“Are you sure you want your identity kept secret?” Rhodey asked.

“Not permanently,” Peter admitted, surprising Stephen. “I’ll probably come clean after college.”

Rhodey nodded.

“Why don’t we give it a proper trial run?” Sharon asked Peter. “In the real world?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Sam said. “Might as well get some training in, while we can.”

Kate gave an audible groan, prompting Tony to roll his eyes. “How are you even more annoying than Clint?”

“I surpass him in nearly every way,” she said.

“‘Join the Avengers,’ he said,” Barnes drawled. “‘It’ll be good for you,’ he said. Lying punk.”

“Oh, lighten up GQ,” Sharon tossed out.

“I’ll lighten something up,” Barnes muttered darkly. But he stood and made his way out of the room, presumably to change into training gear.

“Right. Training room in 15,” Sam announced. “Rhodey, you mind calling it?”

“It’d be my pleasure,” Rhodey said. He fixed Stephen with a look that let him know he was going to be in the colonel’s line of fire for the entire exercise.

When Sam finally called the exercise to an end, they were all in various states of exhaustion. And, at least in Stephen’s case, annoyance.

Sure enough, Rhodey had kept Stephen in his line of fire throughout the training. He’d also decided that Peter was to be Stephen’s designated target. Peter, for his part, had simply shrugged and conjured his suit. “Whatever helps you sleep tonight,” he’d told Rhodey.

Peter had been his target and Stephen hadn’t done him the disservice of holding back. He’d scored several hits and taken very few from Rhodey, thanks to the clones he’d made of himself. He’d also kept shields up over Barnes, who was Peter’s target, leading to no small amount of irritation on Peter’s part.

Getting to see the way new members like Barnes, Kate, and Sharon integrated with the team was invaluable. A little terrifying, too. Kate, for all her bravado and laid-back personality, had the most accurate aim Stephen had ever seen. While Barnes might not have been a brainwashed assassin any longer, the tactics seemed to be hard-wired into him and he moved quickly. As for Sharon… she fought dirty and had no qualms taking a hit if it meant getting closer to her targets. Stephen was glad they were all on the same team for the exercise. 

“Okay, hit the showers and we’ll regroup in 20 for debrief,” Sam said once they’d all gathered around.

Peter, hood down, made his way over to Stephen, looking worn down. “Any chance we can shower back home and then come back?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “We’ll be back,” he said to Sam, conjuring a portal.

The bathroom was already hot and steamy, with the shower going by the time they stepped through the portal.

Peter had sent the suit back and was undressing. Then he was stepping into the shower without a word. Stephen had the distinct impression that he was somewhat in the doghouse.

Well, he wouldn’t be for long.

He finished undressing himself and stepped into the shower as well. Peter was facing the wall, simply letting the hot water rain down on him. Stephen could see the tension in Peter’s shoulders and back and frowned.

“If you’re expecting me to apologize for not pulling my punches during training, don’t,” he said. “You would be just as mad at me if I had and you know it.”

Peter sighed and Stephen watched his muscles ripple as he relaxed. He grabbed a washcloth and lathered it up with some soap that was crafted by some of the adepts at Kamar-Taj. “Back up just a bit,” he urged.

Peter stepped back and Stephen started washing him. “You fought very well,” he said. “How did the suit feel in an actual fight?”

“Good,” Peter said. “The webs shot great and I barely felt the hits.”

“I’m glad,” Stephen said as he bent down to wash Peter’s lower back, ass, and legs. “Has anyone ever told you how nice your ass is?”

“Um, no?” Peter said awkwardly.

“That’s a crime,” he said, focusing his attention on the firm muscles, ensuring they were well-soaped and massaged. “Because it’s absolutely perfect.”

He slicked two of his fingers with soap and ran them up and down in the crease, prompting a startled yelp from Peter. “Hygiene’s important,” Stephen said. He teased Peter’s rim for a bit, never quite prodding inside. Then he soaped his hands again and focused on Peter’s balls, idly rolling them before rubbing on the sensitive, delicate skin between them and his hole.

“Doctor knows best, huh?” Peter asked with a moan.

“Always.”

“Does it turn you on?”

“Hmm?” Stephen stood and grabbed the detachable shower head, rinsing the soap down and aiming the powerful stream between Peter’s - kept spread by magic - cheeks. He smirked at the full body shake the boy couldn’t contain as the water pounded against his hole. He cancelled the spell, hooked the shower head again, and helped Peter to turn around.

“Fuck,” Peter said breathlessly. “Does being called Doctor turn you on?” he asked, once he’d had a moment to gather himself.

“More than it probably should,” Stephen admitted. He added some soap to the washcloth and started washing Peter’s front.

“I’m pretty sure my nipples are clean now,” Peter said after several moments of Stephen’s attention.

“Doesn’t hurt to be sure,” Stephen countered. But he continued working his way down Peter’s body, skipping over the hard, beautiful cock in front of him and bending down, washing his legs instead. “Hands on my shoulders and lift a leg,” he ordered, then quickly washed the foot presented to him. “Other,” he said with a tap to Peter’s thigh, and repeated the washing.

He took his time cleaning Peter’s cock. He was infinitely gentle about it, soaping around the head and coaxing little moans out of Peter. He traced soap up and down the veins of the shaft, fingers light and teasing. When he added more soap to his hand, washcloth forgotten, he urged Peter to use him as a fleshlight. When he could feel Peter getting close, he pulled his hand away and stood so that the water could rinse him clean.

“That’s not fair!” Peter whined.

“So little trust for your Doctor,” Stephen teased with a chuckle. He dropped to his knees again and took him in his mouth.

“Oh fuck!”

Stephen pulled off just long enough to say, “Now be good, hmm?” before swallowing him down. He was on a time crunch, so he couldn’t draw it out as long as he’d like - he’d abused the Time Stone enough recently. He concentrated on bringing Peter off, knowing he’d have plenty of time later to needlessly make up for his behavior during their training session.

It wasn’t long before Peter was gripping his hair, curses and moans pouring out of him while Stephen worked his cock. “Oh, oh _fuck_ Stephen, oh my god, please, fuck please-”

Music to his ears.

He relaxed his jaw and took him deep in his throat before swallowing and with a harsh yell, Peter came.

Peters hands rested heavily on Stephen’s shoulders as he struggled to stay upright in the aftermath of his orgasm. “H-how do you do that?” he finally asked.

“Why? Want me to teach you?” Stephen teased, standing.

Peter let his gaze lower and then looked back up. “I don’t think my mouth can stretch that far,” he said.

Stephen laughed out loud. Peter was simply too good for his ego. “I bet it could, but that’s a challenge for another day.” He started washing himself. “Go towel off and get dressed, yeah? I’ll be done shortly.”

“You don’t want-” Peter gestured to his erection. “I can, you know, help with that.”

“It’s fine. We only have about five minutes before we have to go back. Go,” he added. “Don’t worry about me.”

When Peter had chosen a towel, gathered up his clothes, and left the bathroom, Stephen took himself in hand. Now that the training was over with for the day, he could replay the events in his mind with rose-colored glasses and focus on how incredible Peter had looked in the tight suit Stephen had created for him. He could appreciate the agility and grace with which his young lover had fought. And, he thought, as he spilled over his own hand, he could bask in the fact that he alone knew _exactly_ what that incredible body and strength translated into after-hours.

They arrived back at the Compound just as everyone was sitting down in a conference room. 

Peter had forgone his regular clothes in favor of a set of dark blue robes that had Stephen wishing they could just skip any Avengers-related tasks and stay locked up in the Sanctum, wrapped up in each other. “You know they’re going to see you in those and draw their own conclusions,” he’d commented.

Peter had shrugged. “They might as well start getting used to it. Besides, these are way too comfortable to not wear.”

Stephen himself had simply worn the clothes he’d had on earlier. There was no sense in adding to the pile of laundry he’d need to do at the end of the week. Cloak wrapped itself around Stephen’s neck as they’d portaled back to join the others.

“Welcome back,” Sam told them as they took their seats.

Sharon helpfully moved over closer to Barnes, so they didn’t have to split up, much to the visible annoyance of the man. (“Get over yourself,” she told him.)

“Were you two having sex?” Kate asked Peter.

“Did you have to ask that?” Rhodey asked her with a pained look. “Was it really necessary?”

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious they did,” Scott commented.

“That’s not what I-” Rhodey sighed. “No, never mind. Just- let’s get started, okay?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun,” she told Rhodey.

“Right,” he said dryly. “Because I don’t want to think about someone who is the closest thing I have to a nephew getting busy with someone over twice his age.”

“Closest thing to a- What about Harley?” Tony asked him, affronted.

“Do I _have_ to claim that destructive little menace?”

“He loves you!” Tony insisted.

“He re-programmed the protocols in my suit!”

“Can we get started?” Sam asked loudly before Tony could respond. “I’d like to get out of here sometime today.”

“I would very much like to not spend my entire day here,” Stephen said. "Just saying."

“You do realize this is more important than you having a day off, right?” Rhodey asked.

“And you do realize that my position as Sorcerer Supreme supersedes any responsibility you may try to throw my way? I have an entire reality to protect, not just earth.”

“Oh snap,” Kate whispered.

Scott couldn’t contain his laughter, prompting several glares in his direction. “I’m sorry, it’s just that the infinity stone thing, and the gauntlet, and the snapping.”

More glares.

“I know it’s technically not funny,” Scott defended. “But if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry, and you do not want that. I’m an ugly crier. Right Hope?”

Hope sighed. “He’s not wrong,” she allowed.

“Right. PRISMA, can you please playback the recording of the training session from today?” Sam asked.

Apparently, he hadn’t been specific enough. The video wasn’t the team, but a shirtless Barnes doing reps on what Stephen believed was called a ‘salmon ladder’.

“Get it!” Kate cheered to the screen. “I knew you were ripped James, but damn!”

“He’s alright,” Sam said.

“No,” Sharon disagreed. “He’s ripped.”

“Can we please just get on with the debriefing?” Barnes asked, looking embarrassed.

“I’ll debrief with you any time you want Jimmy, just say the word,” Kate said. She accepted a high five from Peter but had enough sense to not try with anyone else.

“PRISMA, stop this recording and play the team training before I decommission you,” Tony ordered.

The recording stopped and the team’s session started.

Sam talked them through what they were seeing, pausing and replaying certain parts. He asked for their input and made notes on his tablet. When they finished the recording, he played it again and asked Rhodey go over his perspective on it.

When Rhodey was done, Sam asked if there were any outstanding questions.

Peter raised his hand.

“This isn’t school, Pete,” Sam said with a smile. “You don't need to raise your hand.”

“Right. Sorry,” Peter said. He looked at Rhodey. “Did you get it out of your system?”

“What do you mean?” Rhodey asked, trying to dodge the question.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Peter said flatly. “Are you done with it?”

“I still don’t like it,” Rhodey admitted.

“I don’t care,” Peter said, tone even.

“You had your fun,” Sam told Rhodey. “This doesn’t happen again, got it?”

“Yeah, I got it. We good?” He asked Stephen.

“I wasn’t aware I had a problem with you, so I’d assume so,” Stephen replied.

“You know, it’s really annoying how you’re able to do that,” Rhodey said. “Make it seem like everyone else is being unreasonable?”

“It’s a skill,” Stephen admitted.

“It’s gaslighting,” Rhodey accused.

“Is it?” Stephen asked.

Tony snorted.

“Are _we_ good?” Peter asked Rhodey pointedly.

“Yeah. No more going after your wizard. Got it.”

“Right,” Sam said. “I think that’s it, unless anyone has anything else they’d like to bring up.” He looked at Kate.

“No,” she said. “I’m good.”

“Small mercies,” Tony muttered.

“You’re funny,” Peter told Kate as they walked out of the conference room. “It’s nice to have someone close to my age, too.”

“I’m pretty great,” Kate acknowledged.

“And humble,” said Barnes.

“I don’t see a point in false modesty,” Kate said breezily.

“You sure you want Peter hanging around her?” Barnes asked Stephen. “Because she might rub off on him.”

Stephen snorted. “Peter doesn’t act like that; he knows better.”

“What if I did act like that?” Peter asked with a smirk. “What would you do?”

Stephen smiled with little humor. “You’re more than welcome to try it and see what happens.”

“Oh damn.” Kate looked at Stephen as if she’d just realized something. “ _Oh_.”

“What?” Scott asked. “What am I missing here?”

“Trust me Scott,” Hope said, urging him along. “You don’t want to know.”

“Will this Kamar-Taj be as interesting as here?” Wanda asked Stephen.

He smiled, genuinely. “In different ways, but yes.”

“Good.”

It was early evening when they went home. Stephen offered to portal Peter back to his apartment, but the boy declined, stating that May was working a double. “Plus, there was that thing you were going to teach me,” Peter added as they walked into the living room.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” Stephen told him seriously. He sat on the couch with a sigh, massaging his hands. “Not like that.”

“But you’d like it?” Peter asked, stepping closer.

“That’s not the point,” he said.

“Why is it okay for you to do it to me, but I can’t do it to you?” Peter was shifting back and forth on his feet. “Was it what I said in the shower? Because I was just joking! I’m pretty sure I could do it.”

“No, Peter, it’s not what you said.” He motioned for Peter to sit down. “While there are certain things I enjoy and tendencies that I have, they’re also the kind of things that I would never do with someone who wasn’t completely and enthusiastically on board with them. Things that take trust.”

“I trust you!” Peter insisted as he sat opposite him. “I do!”

Stephen sighed. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Please tell me it’s not the age thing,” Peter begged.

“No, it’s more of a time thing. Trust built from time.”

Peter thought for a moment. “You’re into kinky stuff, aren’t you?”

Stephen chose his words carefully. “I have some leanings towards dominance and control in the bedroom.”

“Is this that whole doctor thing again?”

“Yes.”

“And not a whips and chain thing?”

“Correct.” He seemed to be getting it. “I have zero desire to tie you up and whip you. I’m not one for pain.”

“Okay. So, will you let me suck your cock or not?” Peter finally asked, once he’d done some more thinking.

“Are you asking because you want to or because you think it’s something I expect you to do in order to keep me interested?”

“I want to!” Peter insisted. “Look, you’ve been my first for everything but kissing and honestly I’m curious. You seemed to enjoy doing it to me both times and I wonder if I’ll enjoy doing it to you. I know you’re not going to try and choke me or make me keep doing it if I don’t like it.”

Stephen sat back and spread his legs. “You really want to taste me? Feel how heavy I am on your tongue? Do you want to make me feel good, Peter?”

Peter nodded, eying him hungrily. “Yes, yes, and _yes_.”

“Come here, Darling,” Stephen ordered.

Peter stood and crossed the short distance to him before lowering himself to his knees between spread legs. He looked up with such a look of anticipation and longing that for a moment, Stephen felt like he was about to ruin something precious. Then Peter kissed over the bulge in his jeans and that feeling fled, replaced by hot desire.

When Peter drew back, brow furrowed, Stephen nodded. “There’s no pressure,” he assured him.

“No, it’s not that,” Peter said. “It’s just that I’ve never, you know, done this.”

Stephen unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock free. “So long as you make sure to keep your teeth clear and definitely don’t bite, I’m happy for you to do whatever you’d like,” he said. “Or, you don’t have to do anything.” He gave his cock a few strokes. “Up to you.”

Peter looked at his cock like it was some kind of problem he was trying to work out how to solve. He almost felt the heat of Peter’s gaze on the head of his cock. His lips were pursed, and eyes focused, and he looked so perfect that Stephen nearly hurt looking at him.

Slowly, carefully, Peter’s tongue swiped along his cockhead and Stephen groaned. Encouraged, Peter did it again and again before sucking the head into his mouth. He suckled contentedly for long moments while his hands alternated between splaying across Stephen’s taut thighs and stroking his length.

Before long, Peter started kissing up and down his length, then letting his tongue map out the veins on Stephen’s cock, as if he remembered what Stephen had done to _him_. When he tired of mouthing along the shaft, he returned to suck on the head. When his tongue dipped into the slit, Stephen let out a strangled yell. Peter seemed to take note and did it again.

Stephen was nearly ready to paint the inside of Peter’s mouth when Peter pulled off. “I’m not done,” Peter was quick to tell him. Then he shifted a bit and started to lick the underside of Stephen’s cock, moving lower and lower until he licked across his sack and sucked at his balls.

“Peter!” Stephen gasped out. This was- this was beyond anything he could have imagined.

Peter pulled back and looked up at him with a smile. “What do you want me to do?”

So many things. Too many to list.

He helped Peter up and portaled them to his bedroom, where he undressed quickly and motioned for Peter to do the same. As Peter pulled his robes off, Stephen grabbed the bottle of lube and a condom. He pushed the now-naked Peter back onto the bed and crawled over him.

“You.” He kissed just above Peter’s navel. “Are.” Over Peter’s wildly beating heart. “Perfect.” He claimed Peter’s lips.

Peter seemed to melt at Stephen’s words, body relaxing even as fingers slick with lube began to stretch him. “Feels good,” Peter said. “But I was supposed to be making _you_ feel good.”

“It’s not a competition,” Stephen told him with a chuckle and rolled on the condom. “And you’ve made me feel very good.”

“I thought we didn’t need those,” Peter pointed out.

“Sex gets messy,” Stephen said, slowly pressing in. “I’m not one for mess.”

“Is that why you swallow?” Peter asked.

How could he ask something so filthy, so innocently, but look so debauched? There was something poetic about the juxtaposition, but he was far too gone to ruminate too seriously on it.

“I’ve only ever swallowed you,” he answered, hilting himself. He started rolling his hips gently.

“ _Oh_.” Peter was looking up at him with something like wonder. His legs wrapped around Stephen’s hips and he squeezed around him as they moved together.

“Only you,” Stephen repeated. And kissed him.

When they were a panting tangle on the bed and Stephen had vanished the condom leaving himself clean, he looked down at Peter. The boy's eyes were hazy, and he had a blissed-out smile that Stephen would never get tired of seeing.

“How are you feeling?” Stephen asked.

Peter didn’t say anything, just settled in further against Stephen’s side.

“I asked you a question,” Stephen said, tugging lightly on a handful of sweaty curls.

“’m good,” Peter said finally. “Just…” Stephen tugged again. “Oh, fuck, how do you this to me?”

Stephen gave a soft chuckle. “How do you let me?”

“It just feels right.”

“There’s your answer.”

It wasn’t long before Peter was ready to go again, though whether his stamina was from the spider bite or just his youth, Stephen wasn’t sure. He himself was feeling tired, but he encouraged Peter to continue moving against him. It meant another shower was in their near future, but as Stephen had said, hygiene was important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Kate Bishop.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter starts getting ready for college with some help from Aunt May while Stephen is at Kamar-Taj helping Wanda get settled in as well as attending to his duties. Thankfully, technology is a wonderful, wonderful thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally made a mood board for this story!

**8.**

* * *

The rest of the June seemed to fly by.

Peter submitted his acceptance to Columbia and, thanks to some behind-the-scenes magic from Stark, had landed one of the prime singles in the dormitory that Stephen had recommended. Peter had called Stark and thanked him, which the man had brushed off. “Just let me know if you want anything else.”

There was a period of nearly two weeks where Stephen had to leave the Sanctum, because he was escorting Wanda to Kamar-Taj and helping her get settled. He also took the time to check in on the other Sanctums as well as oversee some training exercises that were scheduled.

Peter sent him messages every day. He’d been back to the Compound a few times and had apparently met the newest recruit to the Avengers, an enhanced woman named Ava. “She’s a ghost!” Peter told him excitedly. “She like, phases in and out of reality. It’s super cool!”

“Let me guess,” Stephen drawled, after listening to Peter talk about how amazing this Ava was for nearly ten minutes. “She’s also very pretty.”

“Oh. I mean, she _is_ , but I’m taken,” Peter said easily. “My boyfriend is kind of possessive - I don’t think he’d like me considering someone else.”

“I imagine he wouldn’t,” Stephen agreed. “He sounds like a real asshole.”

“Eh,” Peter allowed, and Stephen could just _see_ the little smirk he had to be wearing. “He’s not that bad. A little narcissistic, a little controlling, and very good at making me happy.”

“You make me happy, too,” Stephen told him.

“Speaking of, sometimes I think Happy is seriously misnamed,” Peter said.

Stephen was instantly on edge and switched the call to video so he could see Peter. “Why?”

Peter shook his head. “The guy went into a fifteen-minute rant about Harley, who’s going to be visiting for the 4th.”

Good. It hadn’t been directed at Peter.

“How old is this Harley fellow?”

“He’s turning 21 on the 2nd,” Peter said. “And Happy said he’s not ready for him to able to drink, since he’s enough of a pain without alcohol.”

Stephen wondered just what the deal with this guy was. “Didn’t he help Stark with the Mandarin, back in the day?” He asked.

“Yeah. So, like, Happy loves him, but in a ‘why are you’ sort of way.” Peter shrugged. “I’m excited to meet him.”

“How’s May?”

“Oh! She’s good. She’s been talking to this guy. She says he’s a guy and he’s a friend, but he’s not her boyfriend.” Peter rolled his eyes - a habit Stephen didn’t care for, but Peter made endearing somehow. “His name is Nathan.”

“And you’ve met him?” He kept his expression passive. He couldn’t just deem every new person an automatic threat to Peter.

“Not yet. May wants to get to know him better before bringing him around.”

Stephen thought that was reasonable.

“Have you been sleeping at home or at the Sanctum?”

“At the Sanctum. At least for nights when May’s on shift.” Peter shifted his phone around, and Stephen saw he was on the guest bedroom where he’d stayed that first night. “And, if you want, we can do this tonight before I go to sleep. The video chatting.”

Stephen felt his lips quirk. “Or I could easily just come back for a night.”

“You’re going to need to get used to me not being around as much when school starts back up,” Peter said.

Stephen knew that, he just didn’t have to like it. “I know. Video date tonight,” he agreed. “Or rather, my morning.”

“How’s Wanda?” Peter asked.

Stephen considered everything he’d witnessed since returning to Kamar-Taj. "She’s getting comfortable. In terms of sheer power, she’s years ahead of other students and many of the masters. Her potential is unmatched by anything I’ve ever seen. In terms of control and execution, she has much to learn.

“She’s by no means dumb but growing up in a constant war zone isn’t conducive to a solid education. Thankfully there are former schoolteachers here who are working with her.”

“Is she happy?”

“She’s less sad,” he answered simply. “She’s lost a great deal in a very short life.”

“It’s hard,” said Peter. “Sometimes it feels like the pain won’t ever stop. And it doesn’t really go away, just sort of fades.”

Stephen softened at the reminder that Peter, too, had been through more strife than anyone should have to bear. That he was still so hopeful, and kind was nothing short of a miracle.

“What are your plans for today?” Stephen asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

“May’s taking me school shopping,” Peter said. He held up his wallet. “Apparently one of my graduation gifts from last month was misplaced, because a prepaid gift card with an insane amount of money was delivered the other day.” Peter tossed the wallet on the bed. “I tried to get Tony to take it back, but he said it was actually from Morgan, so I’d have to take it up with her.” He huffed.

“Well, that’s fighting dirty,” Stephen said with a smile. “Using Morgan like that is an under-handed move and I one hundred percent respect it.”

“She’s too cute to say no to,” Peter bemoaned. “And she’s like, really smart. Not just book smart, but sneaky smart.”

“Enjoy your shopping,” Stephen told him when the call was winding down. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Have a good night.” Peter kissed his phone screen and ended the call.

Peter had received a list of what he’d be provided in his dorm room, as well as a run-down of the amenities of the dorm hall. There was a dining hall in the building, as well as a to-order place. There were multiple lounges and computer labs. Laundry was free. All-in-all, it was a pretty sweet deal.

Tony’s hacking had scored him a corner room on the 15th floor, which was perfect for climbing out when needed. He had 138 square feet all to himself. An extra-long twin bed was provided, along with a chest of drawers and a desk. And a closet. He’d be responsible for just about everything else, including renting one of the microwave/fridge units they offered.

He and May stopped at a carpet store and bought a remnant for him to use as flooring before braving the other-dimension-like void that was Bed, Bath, and Beyond. He deliberately nixed picking out any blankets as he was determined to get blankets like Stephen owned. He bought the softest-feeling Egyptian cotton sheets, though, in a dark grey and deep blue. He even threw in a set of jersey sheets that had various Avenger symbols - a little joke for himself.

He bought a nice three-basket laundry hamper and a rolling unit of drawers that he could rearrange. A shower caddy was carefully picked and outfitted by May, who admittedly knew more about this kind of thing than Peter did. (“We need to get you a couple of pairs of shower sandals.”)

Then came the shopping for clothes. Peter didn’t feel very comfortable outside of thrift stores, but May had encouraged him to treat himself. “College is a chance to start over and reinvent yourself, if you want.” So, Peter let himself be dragged into Nordstrom and ended up with a new wardrobe that honestly, made him feel polished.

He’d picked out some graphic tees, because he liked them, but his shirts and sweaters were all perfectly fitting. If he ever wore a belt, it would be because he wanted to tie his look together, not because he needed to keep his too-loose pants from falling down. He had good, comfortable shoes. Not just sneakers, but dress shoes, a pair of boots, and loafers.

He kind of hated himself for enjoying the new clothes and the quality of them. May and Ben had done their best to provide for him, and everything he’d had had always been clean and free of stains or tears. Any new stuff, like shoes, wasn’t exactly what was the most fashionable, but it was well-made and meant to last. It hadn’t been their fault that he’d grown four inches overnight after the incident with the spider and that his clothes had been two sizes too small.

“Stop,” May told him while they ate. It was a nice restaurant, the kind with actual fabric napkins and waitstaff that called them Sir and Ma’am. He’d insisted on treating her, since she’d been so great about taking him shopping.

“Stop what?” He asked, mouth full. Gosh, the complimentary bread was so good.

“Stop with the guilt. It’s okay to enjoy your new things,” she said, flipping through the menu.

“I don’t want to seem ungrateful,” Peter said.

May smiled at him. “I don’t think you’re ungrateful. I have never regretted taking you in and taking care of you. I’m sorry that times got hard for us, but I wouldn’t do anything different if I had the chance.”

“I love you, Aunt May,” he said.

“I larb you, too.”

Their waiter came back to refill their drinks and take their orders, and then May started talking logistics.

“So, I think we should take the stuff you bought to Stephen’s place.”

Peter nearly spat out his mouthful of bread. “What?”

“There’s not much room for it at our place, and you’ve said how big your room is there.” She sounded very reasonable about it. “Plus, it’s closer to your school for moving day.”

“I’ll have to ask,” Peter said.

“No, you won’t,” she assured him. “I got his go-ahead from him already.”

“When?”

“A couple of days ago. It was his idea, actually. He’s a very practical man, all things considered.”

“All things considered?” Peter asked.

“Peter, half the time the man roams around wearing a cape.”

“Cloak,” he immediately corrected.

May just raised a brow.

“Yeah, he’s kind of eccentric.” He smiled. “I like it. It makes me feel kind of normal in comparison.”

“We’ll drop your things off at the Sanctum. Or are you staying the night there?”

Peter took a long pull of his drink. “I’m staying there tonight, yeah. Video date.”

May’s face flushed a bit. “Oh. That’s nice.”

Peter laughed. “How’s Nathan?”

“He’s good. We might go see a movie this weekend.”

“Good for you!” Peter said. “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“Just a bit longer, I think,” said May. “I know it’s not as necessary to wait as it would have been if you were still young, but I’d like to be sure.”

Their food was brought out and after they ate, they dropped off Peter’s stuff at the Sanctum (“This is… it’s nice. And very odd.” May looked around, bewildered. “Most of the stuff here is harmless so long as you’re not touching it,” Peter said happily. “We can just leave it here,” he motioned to the bags and bags. “I’ll carry it up later.”) and went home to Queens. Peter helped May with some chores around the apartment and they sat and played cards for a couple of hours before Peter looked at the clock.

“You have a shift coming up,” he said.

“Yes, I do,” May said. “Are you going to make a break for it?”

“Yeah.”

“Text me when you get there so I know you’re safe,” May instructed as she gathered up the cards.

“Do the same?” Peter asked, pulling a pair of headphones out of his pocket.

“Of course.”

Peter hugged her goodbye and left for the subway.

He had a date coming up.

Stephen slept in fits. First, he was woken up by Novice Pereira because of a crisis with some of the more dangerous flora in their greenhouse (Adept Suki would be fine, and her skin would return to its normal color in a few months.). Then he’d woken drenched in sweat from a nightmare about his car crash. He’d managed to fall back asleep, even though it was 4am and he’d be better off just staying awake. 

His alarm was set for 8am, which would be just after 10pm in New York. He and Peter would be meeting at 10:30 Peter’s time.

The morning proper came far too soon but he got out of bed and dressed in yesterday’s robes. He’d shower _after_ their call. After throwing up some privacy spells, he boiled some water for a cup of tea and stretched while he waited.

His laptop lit up with the sound of Peter calling him. He answered it and smiled at seeing Peter’s beautiful face.

“Good morning!” Peter said cheerfully.

“And good evening to you.”

“You sleep well?” Peter asked.

“More or less,” he answered. “How was your day out on the town with May?”

Peter went into an animated telling about his day, from his trip to the void that was Bed, Bath, and Beyond to shopping for clothes from Nordstrom. He mentioned how he felt guilty about the clothes but that May had snapped him out of it. He also added that they’d brought all of his new things to the Sanctum because ‘honestly, there’s just more room.’

“I’m glad you had a good day,” Stephen said. “When I’m able to come back, we’ll work on getting you the blankets you seem so in love with.”

“Any idea when you’ll be able to come back? It’s kinda lonely here.”

It was impossible to not go soft at that. “I’m hoping by early next week,” he said. “It all depends on when the usual Masters who oversee training here return from their vacations.”

“They don’t have a set date?” Peter asked skeptically. “What kind of operation are you all running over there?”

Stephen chuckled. “The kind of operation where everyone here has access to the same magic I do. We provide a date range for these kinds of things and it works.”

“Sounds fake, but okay,” Peter said with a grin. “Did you dream about me?”

“I wish I had,” Stephen answered. “Dreams about you are my favorite.”

Peter’s face flushed, but he looked really quite pleased. “Yeah? Why is that?”

“Fishing, are we?” Stephen teased. “Well, I suppose it’s because in dreams I have you all to myself. I can lay you out on my bed and take my time undressing you, looking at you, touching you. I can take you apart piece by piece with no interruptions, no worries at all.” His voice went rough as he was caught up in the fantasy of it all. “I can spend hours teasing you, tasting you. I can stretch that perfect little hole of yours open and slide my cock right in, because you’re made just for me.”

“Oh fuck,” Peter breathed out. His eyes were hooded, and he was gripping the blanket on Stephen’s bed so tightly his knuckles were white.

“Do you like the sound of that?” Stephen asked. “In my dreams I can keep you on edge for hours, Peter. You’re so sensitive and so responsive and you _cry_ with how badly you want it, all strung out and desperate to tip over, but holding back for me, just because I asked you to.”

“P-please,” Peter said on a whimper. A hand was hovering over the visible bulge of his pants and he’d already untied and did away with his robe top. He was _waiting_ for Stephen’s permission. Something he absolutely didn’t have to do. And yet-

“Every time I think you’ve reached the pinnacle of perfection you prove me wrong,” Stephen said. “Touch yourself for me, Peter. Show me what you’ve given to me.”

Peter moved to pull his pants off, but Stephen stopped him. “No, just pull it out,” he instructed. For some reason, it just _felt_ dirtier that way.

Nodding his compliance, Peter untied the front fastenings of his robe pants and pulled his erection free. He handled it gently, no doubt worried his enhanced senses would send him off too soon. Stephen could see the milky pearl of pre-come on the tip. _Beautiful._

“Will you stroke yourself for me?” he asked.

Peter’s hand started a shaky slide up and down his cock. His thumb swiped at the pre-come in an effort to help the glide, but he frowned and looked at Stephen. “It’s so rough,” he said.

Stephen cooed in semi-false sympathy. “Nightstand on your right, top drawer.”

Peter quickly moved and came back with a nondescript bottle of lube with tiny blue beads inside.

“Do you trust me?” Stephen asked. Peter gave him a curious look but nodded. “I need words, Peter,” Stephen reminded him.

“Yes, I trust you.”

“Slick yourself up,” he said. “Just enough for you to get a nice glide. A little goes a long way, believe me.”

Peter poured and spread a small amount of the lube up and down his cock. The motion was smoother, now, and Peter capped the bottle before tossing it to the side. He resumed his stroking, watching Stephen intently. “Are you touch-” he broke off with a gasp.

“Am I what?” Stephen asked with a smirk. He was positioned so that he was only visible from the chest up, but he was indeed pleasuring himself.

“W-what _is_ this stuff?” Peter asked, still stroking.

“It’s lube, Peter.” He gave a small laugh. “How does it feel?”

“C-cold,” Peter managed. “But somehow hot. But oh my god I’ve never- never felt anything like this!”

“Do you like it?”

Peter nodded, stroking faster.

“Slow down,” Stephen told him. “I’m not done with you.”

With a moan, Peter forced himself to slow down. Stephen could see the tense muscles, how badly Peter wanted to race to his finish.

“You’re absolutely beautiful like this, Peter. You’re always beautiful, honestly, but like this? So good for me? Trusting me to take care of you even when I’m not there? You’re stunning.”

“’M not,” Peter mumbled, still stroking.

“Listen to your Doctor,” Stephen told him sternly, before softening. “I could watch you like this for ages and not grow bored. Those perfect hands, so soft and smooth but so strong wrapped around that perfect cock of yours. I’m almost jealous of your hands, you know. They’re touching what I love to have my mouth around.”

“Oh my god, Stephen,” Peter moaned. “Please please please…”

“What are you asking for? Tell me, Darling.”

“I need to go faster,” Peter begged. “It feels so good.”

“Tell me about it,” Stephen encouraged. “Tell me what you want me to do for you when I get home.”

“I can’t,” Peter said. He could see the boy’s fist tightening around his cock as he stroked, adding pressure since he couldn’t add speed.

“Why not?” Stephen asked.

“I’m not good at it like you are.”

“What do you think will make you feel good?”

Peter looked up at him, eyes bright. “I-I like when you tell me what to do,” he said. “You tell me what to do but you’re not, I don’t know, degrading about it.”

“A little faster now,” Stephen encouraged, watching Peter struggle to get out the words.

“I love your hands,” Peter continued. “You don’t, but I do. I like the way they feel when they touch me. Especially the scars, they feel good on my skin. _Fuck._ When you come back, I want you to touch me - everywhere. Feels so good.”

“What else will you want?” It was hard to sound so unaffected when Peter had professed his love for what Stephen hated most about himself. His own hand - scars and all - worked his cock outside of Peter’s view.

“Want you to stretch me. I like when you work me open,” Peter said. The sound of the lube slicking his way was fading.

“Add some more lube and tell me more,” Stephen ordered. “Perfect boy.”

Peter let out a loud moan when the sensation of the added lube made itself felt and his hand sped up as he stroked faster. “Oh god,” he managed, body tensing. “You work me open but it’s like it’s never enough, because you’re so big when you press into me. Feels like I’ll never be able to take you, but you make me, and it burns but it feels so good.”

“What else?”

Peter’s hand sped up and Stephen could tell he was getting close.

“I want you to pin me down, I like it when you do, keep me still so that all I _can_ do is take you. Don’t know how but you make me feel safe when you do. And- and I want you get rough, because everyone treats me like I’m breakable, but you don’t. I like when you’re pounding into me, makes me feel invincible.”

“Are you almost there, Peter?” Stephen asked. “Are you about to come in your hand?”

“Yeah!” Peter cried out, handing moving faster and faster. “Fuck, I’m so close!”

“Go ahead, come for me,” he urged. “Don’t stop touching until you’ve gotten it all.”

With a strangled cry Peter gave another few harsh strokes and he was releasing in white spurts all over his hand. He tugged until he finally done, and then gave Stephen a dreamy, sex-addled look.

“Feel better?” He asked.

“Much,” Peter said.

With some concentration, Stephen made a warm, damp washcloth appear next to Peter. “Why don’t you clean yourself up?”

Peter did, although he made Stephen moan when he gave a saucy grin and licked a bit of his come off of his fingers. “Can I see you?” Peter asked hesitantly. Then he shook his head. “I _want_ to see you,” he said more forcefully.

Stephen adjusted his laptop and watched as Peter took in the sight of him. “Do I meet your approval?” Stephen teased.

Peter simply nodded, looking at him like he was some kind of deity. Stephen _really_ didn’t need the ego boost, but he’d take it regardless. He’d take almost anything Peter gave him.

“I’ve hated being away from you,” Stephen said, stroking his own cock. “I’ve missed waking up with your body next to mine, our legs tangled. I’ve missed stretching you out, making you come with just my fingers inside of you.” He closed his eyes, lost in the fantasy of it all. “You’re so responsive for me.”

“I can’t not be,” Peter said.

“I’ve missed tasting you,” he continued. “Swallowing you down. I love the sounds you make when I have my mouth around you, the way you try so hard to stay still.” He wasn’t going to last much longer; he stroked faster, twisting his wrist. His hands would be sore but oh, it would be worth it. “I miss being inside of you, feeling the way your body struggles for just a moment before giving way and letting me take you. You’re so hot and tight around me, squeezing me.”

Stephen opened his eyes and looked directly at Peter. “You’re so perfect.” And he came with a moan, come painting his fingers as he stroked himself through it.

“That was so hot,” Peter breathed out. He looked beautiful, with cheeks flushed pink and eyes warm and bright. He was still looking at Stephen like he was everything. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I’m sure I do,” Stephen said once he’d caught his breath. He grabbed his own washcloth and cleaned himself. Like he’d told Peter before, he wasn’t one for mess.

“This has been a hell of a way to end my night,” Peter said with a yawn.

“And a wonderful way to start my day,” Stephen agreed. “We’ll talk later?” he asked. Once Peter started yawning, he wasn’t long for the waking world.

Peter nodded. “Yeah, we’ll talk later. Have a good day, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised. “Pleasant dreams, Peter.”

Peter gave him a sleepy smile. “That’s guaranteed.”

They ended their call and Stephen fell back onto his bed. He could have stood to sleep for another few hours, but there were things to do. He couldn’t just ignore his duties as Sorcerer Supreme because he was in the throes of a new relationship. He forced himself to get up again and went to shower.

He would be glad when he could return to the Sanctum. He would be glad when he could return to Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent so much time researching Columbia and it's dorm life, especially John Jay Hall. You have no idea. Also, a MicroFridge would have been amazing when I was in college.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the 4th of July and the Avengers and friends are having a get-together at the Compound.

**9.**

* * *

The last place Stephen wanted to spend his holiday was at the Avengers Compound. But he’d been (surprisingly) invited and Peter was looking forward to going, along with his aunt. Stephen supposed that it was better than being the attending in the ER on a night where morons pushed the limits of stupidity and mixed alcohol and explosives in some attempt to ‘celebrate freedom,’ but he’d have much rather spent the time alone with Peter, maybe finding a prime spot to watch a fireworks show before making their own.

He and Peter arrived together just after 11. May would be coming in the afternoon, since she was off for the next couple of days and was planning on “channeling her inner-Peter and sleeping in like she was a teenager again.” Stephen had said he’d Portal her over once she was ready.

Sam was the first to welcome them and he did so with a roll of his eyes. “Apparently as I’m Captain America, it’s my patriotic duty,” he informed them. “The Uncle Sam jokes have been happening all week.”

“So long as he doesn’t want me, I’m fine with it,” Peter joked.

“I definitely don’t,” Sam said. “Cap or not, I don’t think I could take your Wizard.”

“You couldn’t,” Stephen agreed.

“Damn!” Sharon exclaimed as she strolled up to them. She was wearing short blue jean shorts, a red tank top that proclaimed, “This Is My Patriotic Shirt,” and a headband with glittery blue stars on glittery silver springs. She was also holding a margarita with an elaborate crazy straw. “Are you always this possessive?”

“Yes,” Peter and Stephen said together.

“You missed Steve’s birthday breakfast this morning,” Sam told her.

“Oh, noooo,” She drawled in a fake-upset voice. “I was _really_ looking forward to it.” She used her thumb and pointer finger to delicately grip the straw and take a long drag of her margarita.

“Sharon.”

“Sam.”

“It’s not even noon,” he told her, nodding to her drink.

“Freedom knows no time,” she replied. She looked at Stephen and Peter. “Hope you brought your swim trunks. Morgan brought all of her pool toys with her.”

“Great,” Stephen drawled.

They all walked to the main building, Sharon sipping her drink and Sam making small talk with Peter and Stephen.

It wasn’t long before Tony appeared. “Hey, Share-Bear, I’m going to need you to man the grills. Rhodey is very talented and I love him dearly, but he cooks every burger to well-done.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Sharon said. “Anything over medium isn’t a burger, it’s an atrocity.”

Tony looked at Stephen and Peter. “Woman knows her burgers.”

“Damn right,” Sharon agreed.

“You missed Rogers’ breakfast this morning,” he told her.

“I really didn’t,” she said. “Alright, I’m off to the grills.”

“She’s fun,” Tony commented idly as she strolled off. “And often scary.”

“Is anyone else here yet?” Peter asked Tony.

“Bishop’s still sleeping off last night and Frosty the Assassin is at the retirement home with Rogers. Bruce isn’t coming and god only knows where Danvers is. Lang and Van Dyne will be here later, along with Lang’s daughter. Starr’s here, but she’s still keeping to herself most of the time.”

“I can go and check on Ava,” Peter offered.

“Sure,” said Tony with a shrug. “I like her, too. It’s nice to have someone around who _doesn’t_ have a grudge against me.” He smiled brightly. “It’s SHIELD and Hank Pym she doesn’t like.”

Stephen snorted out a laugh. “Give her time,” he said, as Peter walked off to find his new friend.

When Peter was out of earshot, Tony’s demeanor turned serious. “How’s Big Red doing?” He asked.

“It’s an adjustment for her, but she’s acclimating. She’s very strong but lacking in focus. One of our Adepts used to be a grief counselor, and he’s been invaluable. Once she learns to focus and keep her emotions from ruling her… I don't think it's unreasonable to say that what she did to Thanos will be child’s play compared to what she’ll be able to do.”

“Because that’s not scary at all,” Tony said.

“She’s a better ally than enemy.” He looked seriously at Tony. “And she doesn’t think of you as an enemy.”

“Good to know,” Tony said.

Stephen got the impression that Tony was trying to play it off, but the relief radiating from the man was nearly tangible. “Don’t be surprised if she wants to apologize to you one day.”

“Would I even be able to stop her?”

“Yes, actually. She does her best to respect boundaries, even when her mental shields are so weak she can’t keep thoughts out. We’re making progress on those as well.” Stephen was quiet for a moment as Peter came back with who he assumed was Ava. “Accept her apology, don’t accept it. It’s up to you.”

“What would you do?” Tony asked, looking at him curiously.

“There are few things in the universe that are more toxic and corrosive to the soul than resentment. The only thing I’ve found that comes close is guilt.”

“Have you always been this philosophical?” Tony asked.

“Not really. In fact, according to my ex-girlfriend, former coworkers, and pretty much everyone who knew me, I was a dick.”

“Imagine that,” Tony drawled. “Shorts my circuits.”

“Well, unlike my present company, I grew out of it.” When Peter brought Ava over, he relaxed.

“Stephen, this is Ava. She’s a ghost!” Peter said. “It’s seriously the coolest thing ever.”

“Now it is,” Ava said with a smile. “It wasn’t always. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held out her hand to Stephen. “Peter speaks very highly of you.”

He tried to grasp her hand, but his own went right through it. “Damn it!” Ava hissed, pulling her hand back quickly and looking up at him. “I’m sorry; it’s been a long morning.”

“It’s fine. It’s nice to meet you too.” He watched as her figure went hazy, fading in and out of sight before solidifying. “Multi-inter-dimensional apparition and de-location,” he said. “What’s your scientific diagnosis? Your treatment?”

“And, I’m out,” Tony said. “I have to make sure that Carter doesn’t go feral and kill my Rhodey. Want to come with, Pete?” Peter nodded and the two of them left, leaving Stephen and Ava to talk.

“Molecular disequilibrium. Dr. Van Dyne has been treating me with nano-particles from the Quantum Realm. I was doing very well before Thanos, but once I came back in the Blip, it was like being back at square one. We’ve been more aggressive with treatment this time around.”

Stephen nodded. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to research and see if there is anything I can do to help,” he offered. “Though I imagine you have quite a bit of scientific help for your condition.”

“Every little bit helps,” Ava said. “Thankfully, the pain isn’t so bad today.”

“You can actually feel your cells as they appear and disappear in multiple dimensions at the same time?”

“Over and over again, every single day.” She wrapped her arms around herself in a tight hug. “At this point, it’s like pain is…” she trailed off.

“Like the pain is an old friend,” Stephen offered. He showed her his hands, the scars on them and how they trembled.

“Exactly.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Stephen promised.

“I appreciate it,” Ava said. She tilted her head, looked at him like he was some kind of wonder to observe. “He’s very fond of you, Peter.”

“I’m very fond of him,” Stephen admitted. “To the point where I was quite jealous when he would call, talking for ages about how amazing you are.”

Ava laughed with just an edge of bitterness lacing it. “He has a big heart, but I don’t think he understands all of the terrible things I’ve done.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Stephen advised. “He’s not one to hold a person’s past against them, especially when they’ve been taken advantage of.”

“I like him. He’s almost like a younger brother.”

Stephen smiled. “I’m glad he has you to look out for him, then.”

Ava looked at her watch. “We might as well go and join the others. Kate’s still not awake and once she is, there won’t be a moment of peace to be had.”

Stephen couldn’t argue with that.

The main building’s kitchen was in the back and opened up via an impressive wall of sliding glass doors to a giant deck, a courtyard, and, further back, a sparkling clear pool. Out on the deck and standing guard over the grills was Sharon (now wearing red star-shaped sunglasses), and a very put-out looking Rhodey. Peter and Tony were sitting at an outside table, deep in discussion about something. Peter looked over at Stephen and nodded to let him know he was okay. Ava went to speak with Sam and Stephen decided to say hello to Pepper who was sitting by the pool keeping an eye on Morgan.

The little genius was kicked back on a spaceship raft, wearing sunglasses similar to Sharon’s and yellow floaties on her arms.

“Welcome to the soon-to-be-madness,” Pepper greeted when she spotted him. Stephen saw a large tote of pool toys next to her chair as he drew closer. Vishanti preserve him.

“Thanks for having me,” he said. He pushed the chair next to her further back from the pool and sat.

“Not a fan of the water?” Pepper asked.

“Oh, you know,” he said. “Childhood trauma, the usual.”

“I’ll be sure to keep Morgan from roping you in.”

Stephen smiled as he watched the girl in question float imperiously on her raft.

“So, you and Peter, hmm?” Pepper finally asked.

Stephen looked over at her and tilted his head. “Is this where I receive yet another shovel talk?”

Pepper laughed. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, I think it’s sweet. A little weird because of the age gap, but sweet.”

“I tried to talk him out of it,” Stephen offered.

“I’m sure you tried _really_ hard,” Pepper teased.

Stephen smirked. “As hard as it took to get what I wanted.”

“Diabolical.”

“I’m many things. A fool isn’t one of them.” He looked around, saw that Scott and Hope had arrived while they’d been talking, along with Scott’s daughter. Hope was over speaking with Ava, while Lang and his daughter were heading Stephen and Pepper’s way. “Speaking of fools,” Stephen muttered.

“Hi there Mrs. Stark!” Scott greeted. “Or is it Mrs. Potts? Potts-Stark? Stark-Potts? I'm sorry, I should have asked before I just assumed. That wasn’t cool of me.”

His daughter was shaking her head. “Well done, Dad.”

“You can call me Pepper,” Pepper said, on the verge of laughter. “Same for you, Cassie.”

Cassie nodded and looked longingly at the pool where Morgan was still floating on her raft. “Thank you for having us over,” she said. “It’s really nice of you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Pepper said. “Why don’t you go change into your swimsuit and hop in the pool? The temperature should be just right.”

Cassie nodded eagerly and left without a further word.

“It’s nice to have this sort of thing,” Scott said. “Seeing everyone without needing to train or keep the world from ending. It’s a nice change of pace.”

“It _is_ ,” Pepper agreed. Her watched beeped and she called out to Morgan. “It’s sunscreen time for Her Highness!”

Morgan looked over to them and frowned. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.” Pepper insisted.

“But I don’t feel burnt!”

Pepper gave Stephen a look. “Want to help me out?”

With a smirk, Stephen made the raft float over to the ladder at the side of the pool. Morgan, instead of being put out over leaving her spot for something as dumb as sunscreen, looked delighted at the small display of magic and eagerly climbed off her raft and up the ladder. “When Mom’s done, can you send me back on the raft?” she asked Stephen, eyes wide.

“So long as you promise to listen to your mother,” Stephen said seriously. “And behave.”

Morgan nodded and dutifully removed her floaties and spread her arms out so Pepper could apply more sunscreen.

“Are you available for hire?” Pepper asked him.

“ _I_ am!” Scott said brightly. “I taught myself close-up magic while I was on house arrest.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Pepper said. She sighed, amused. “Such interesting company we keep.”

It was another hour before Kate had finally emerged to grace them all with her presence. Stephen had raised his eyebrows at the number of bandages on her, but Sam had shaken his head and assured him “No, it’s normal for her.” She cheerfully greeted Stephen and Peter before making a beeline towards Sharon at the grills.

He’d gotten a message from May Parker, so after telling Peter that he’d be back soon, he portaled off to get her. Peter introduced her to anyone who didn’t know her, and May settled herself next to Pepper by the pool, where Cassie and Morgan were floating around - Morgan on her spaceship raft and Cassie on a raft that was supposed to be a T-Rex.

They’d all eaten lunch and spread out again by the time Barnes joined them, bringing well-wishes from Rogers. He’d gotten his hair cut since the last time Stephen had saw him and the look suited him. He seemed less burdened, more confident.

“You missed breakfast with Steve,” Barnes told Sharon, who'd hopped up to work the grill when the announcement had come that he was on his way back.

“Did I, though?” she asked as she slapped his hand away from the burger she’d just taken off of the grill for him. “Leave it alone, James.”

“You couldn’t spend even an hour with-”

“I meant the burger; it needs to rest for about six minutes. And leave the other topic alone, too.”

“How is Father Time?” Kate asked Barnes, who’d busied himself making up a plate of the various other food offerings while Sharon kept guard over the grill.

Barnes rolled his eyes. “He’s good. Enjoying the retirement community more than I thought he would.”

“He was invited to come here, too,” Kate said.

“He was,” Sam confirmed. “But he also goes to bed early now, too. Has to wear special ear plugs and everything.”

“How’s Wanda?” Kate asked Stephen.

Stephen gave Kate a generic “she’s fine, doing well, sends her regards” update. He could have elaborated, but he’d noticed Peter swimming around in the pool with Cassie and Morgan, who’d abandoned her raft. He smiled at the easy way Peter had with the two younger girls.

_Boss, according to Mr. Hogan, your last guest has arrived._

Tony, already in good spirits, looked delighted. “It’s about time!” He left for the main entrance and Stephen noticed Rhodey shaking his head.

“Problem?” Hope asked him.

“Just mentally preparing myself for another brush with Hurricane Harley,” Rhodey said.

A few moments later, Tony returned with his arm slung around the shoulders of a tall young man with sandy blonde hair and an expression that said butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Tony was laughing at something this Harley must have said, looking as carefree and relaxed as he’d ever seen the man. “Everyone - Stark Family excluded - this is Harley Keener,” he announced proudly. “He’ll be a senior at MIT this fall.”

“Gearing up to work for Tony?” Scott asked.

“Already do,” Harley replied. “Summer internships since I turned 16.”

“Jeez, Stark, can you start them any younger?” Barnes asked.

“I was 15,” Peter said in Tony's defense. He’d gotten out of the pool and was drying off with a towel. “Except it wasn’t actually a real internship and just a cover. Because of me being Spider-Man.”

Harley shrugged off Tony’s arm and approached Peter with an excited grin. “You’re Spider-Man? Oh my gosh, you’re awesome!”

“Heh,” Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. I uh, I don’t actually meet many fans, outside of the suit. Actually, I don’t meet _any_ fans when I’m not wearing the suit.”

“How d’you like it? The suit?” Harley asked. “I had a blast tweaking the HUD on this latest model.”

“Oh.” Peter looked like a deer in the headlights. “You uh, you worked on my suit?”

“Yeah!” Harley said excitedly. “I mean, Tony let me tinker with it as part of the internship, mostly because there was no one to wear it. But then you came back and you're actually _using_ it!”

“Yeah, the whole Snap and Blip thing was pretty wild,” Peter said. “And the suit was pretty great.”

Harley’s smile dimmed. “What do you mean, was?”

Peter, who didn’t seem to ever take off the relics, even to go swimming, conjured the suit over his swim trunks.

“Whoa!” Harley exclaimed. “Magic, right?” He looked from Peter to Stephen and back to Peter.

Peter pulled the hood back. “Yeah.”

Harley shrugged. “Cool, I guess.”

“You _guess_?” Kate asked him, stunned.

He shrugged again. “What? I prefer tech to magic.”

“That’s fair,” Peter said quickly before Kate could work her own sort of magic and blow it out of proportion. “I like tech, too, but these are pretty much alive.” He held up the silver bands on his wrists, tapped them together, and sent the suit back.

“Nice,” Harley said. Then he turned to Tony. “Can I have his suit, then?”

Tony shook his head. “Unless you can also do whatever a spider can, absolutely not.”

“Eh, worth a shot. I can always tinker with the other suits.”

“Touch mine again and we’re gonna have problems,” Rhodey said sternly. He wasn’t quite glaring at Harley, but he didn’t look entirely non-threatening, either.

Harley raised a hand like he was about to swear an oath. “I have _never_ laid a hand on the War Machine armor. Not even a finger.” His eyes were glittering with mischief, though.

“You rewrote the protocols!”

“I’m a model intern of Stark Industries,” Harley said innocently. “Doing something like that wouldn’t be very becoming of me.”

“Harley,” Tony chimed in, all ease. “Don’t rile up your Uncle Jimmy. It’s not good for his blood pressure.”

“Calling me Uncle Jimmy isn’t good for your health in general,” Rhodey informed him.

“Can I call _you_ Uncle Jimmy?” Kate asked Barnes.

“No.”

Kate opened her mouth to ask another question (and Stephen had a fairly good idea of what it would be) but Barnes shut it down.

“ _No_.”

Kate held up her hands in a backing off gesture. “O-kaaay,” she said quietly. “Ix-nay on the Addy-Day.”

“I haven’t even been here for fifteen minutes and this is already the most entertaining 4th ever,” Harley said. He turned to Tony. “You have _got_ to have me here more often.”

“Finish college like we talked about and you got it,” Tony promised, voice warm and proud.

Stephen could see Peter tense at that. “Take a walk with me?” he asked him.

Peter nodded they started walking off.

“No necking behind the pool house!” Kate called after them.

“Wait. _They’re_ like, _together_?” He heard Harley ask. “Get it, Spider-Man!”

It was a nice day outside despite the July heat. There were some clouds dotting the sky as if artfully painted to add character. The landscaping of the facility was lush and well-kept. Trees weren’t overgrown but provided ample shade, if desired. There was a good breeze that kept the heat from overwhelming the average person.

Stephen retrieved a lightweight set of robes for Peter to change into after briefly bringing them into the Mirror Dimension. Cameras were abundant at the Compound and he had no intention of letting anyone potentially ogle Peter; he was possessive that way. When they were back in the usual dimension, they continued walking the grounds.

“Talk to me, Peter,” he requested. “I know something is troubling you.”

Peter shook his head. “It’s stupid, really.”

“If it’s bothering you, it obviously isn’t. You can tell me anything.”

Peter looked up with a rueful smile. “Doctor-patient confidentiality?”

“Exactly.”

“I wasn’t allowed to work on the suit,” he said, bending down to pick up a felled branch and tossing it back into the tree line. “Sometimes Tony would listen to my ideas, but I wasn’t allowed to make changes on my own.”

_Ah._

“There wasn’t a lot of the internship that was real, either. I got to work in the labs here a couple of times, and by work in the labs I mean I had to sit at a designated table and do my homework and maybe, if I was really lucky, I’d get to see what Tony was working on.”

“You’re jealous,” Stephen said.

“I guess so,” Peter said. “Does that make me a bad person? Like, I get that he’s super smart and I know that Tony’s known him longer than me - especially because he didn’t get dusted - but I’m super smart, too, and it was supposed to be _my_ suit.”

“I think it’s a very natural reaction,” Stephen said. He spotted a large tree with plenty of shade (and from one angle, out of the nearest camera’s sight) and steered them towards it. When they sat down, Stephen settled with his back against the trunk of the tree and Peter moved so that he was on his back with his head on Stephen’s lap and his feet flat on the ground. Stephen was always impressed with how comfortable Peter could make himself no matter the position.

“I know it’s not a competition,” Peter said. His eyes closed as he felt Stephen’s hands play with his hair. It had dried quickly in the heat and was as soft as ever. “I just don’t see that much of a difference between us, and it looks like Tony’s never treated him like he treated me.”

“I think it’s important to keep in mind that he wasn’t allowed to work on your suit until you were gone and there was seemingly no chance that you’d wear it. It was clearly just practice or busy work for him.” He couldn’t help but trace his thumb over Peter’s lips.

“I did wear it, when I got back. Tony had it delivered to me, and I did notice the HUD updates,” Peter said.

“And I highly doubt that Stark, with how protective of you he’s been - poorly-executed, mind - would have let you wear it if he wasn’t completely sure it was safe.”

“Why did his internship get to be real?” Peter asked after a while. His hand was running over the grass, occasionally pressing down to let the blades pop up between his fingers while the other rested on his stomach.

“He didn’t need a cover for being a superhero so closely aligned with Iron Man,” Stephen reasoned. “But maybe he _did_ need an opportunity that he couldn’t get from a school that wasn’t especially for STEM.”

Peter sighed. “I guess I’m being unfair, aren’t I?”

“Emotions don’t have much to do with fair, Peter.” He laced his hand with Peter’s, scarred fingers merging with smooth. “They just… are. It’s how we choose to act or not act on them or in spite of them that could be judged as fair or not.”

For a long while they relaxed where they were. Stephen could feel Peter’s tension leave him as they did nothing but recline and listen to the various sounds of nature around then. He’d not done anything like it since he was a young boy back in Nebraska and the peace it brought with it was wonderful.

“I’m supposed to be older than him,” Peter eventually said, just a bit petulantly. Stephen could see the humor in his brown eyes, however. “I’m supposed to be 22 now.”

He laughed. “I’m only supposed to be 43. I’m far older than that, considering.”

“Dirty old man,” Peter teased.

He leaned down and, tugging Peter up gently by his hair, kissed him. “You’ve no idea.”

“I think I have some kind of idea.” Peter grinned up at him.

Stephen pulled Peter up, manhandling him until he straddled his hips. Then he kissed him again. It quickly became hot and wet as Stephen nipped at Peter’s lips, turning it into an open-mouthed kiss more suited for a bedroom.

When they broke apart, Stephen nipped at Peter’s lips one last time. “You really don’t.”

“It is _so_ nice outside,” came a familiar voice. Scott.

Stephen sighed heavily and resigned himself to the interruption. With his own sigh, Peter slid off and sat next to him. Sure enough, Scott and Hope were walking around not too far away.

“How long is this love affair of yours with the great outdoors going to last?” Hope asked.

“Considering I was under house arrest for two years and then came back to a lifeless hellscape, probably until you tell me to knock it off.”

Hope actually _giggled_ and Stephen had hopes that this would be a quick passing meeting for the four of them.

“Oh!” They’d finally noticed Stephen and Peter.

“Don’t worry,” Hope called. “We’ll keep on walking and find our own spot.”

“Yeah,” Scott agreed. “We’ll leave you two alone.”

Stephen nodded his appreciation as they kept walking. Then he looked down at Peter and couldn’t help but snort at the put-out expression on his face.

“Did you really want to give them a show? Getting ruined under a tree?”

Peter gave Stephen an annoyed look. “Maybe I did,” he snarked. “It was just getting good.”

Stephen pulled him back over, so Peter was again straddling him. He kissed him - hard. His hands roamed over Peter’s back and one settled at the back of his neck while the other came to rest just above his ass. He kissed him until Peter let out a small little moan. When Stephen pulled back, he gently squeezed Peter’s neck. “That’s something I’m never going to let happen,” he told him. “No one gets to see you like that except me.”

“Sometimes I get the feeling you’re a little bit jealous and just a touch possessive,” Peter said dryly.

“There’s an upside to that,” Stephen assured him.

“Which is?”

“No one gets to see _me_ like that except for you. I don’t share and you’ll never have to, either.”

Peter smiled and relaxed into him. “I can live with that,” he said. “I can definitely live with that.”

“It’s a lot more serious than I thought,” Hope commented, as she and Scott returned to help with prep for dinner.

“What’s more serious?” Barnes asked. He’d been assigned vegetable chopping duty which had the happy side-effect of securing him a wide berth of personal space.

“Strange and Peter,” she said.

“Oh?” Sharon looked over from where she was forming burger patties out of a meat mixture she refused to divulge the exact ingredients of outside of “cow.”

“They’re in love,” Hope said simply. “We saw them. And the way they are with each other - they’re in love. Even if they don’t know it yet.”

“You’re sure about that?” Rhodey asked.

“The wizard looks at Peter like Daddy looks at Mommy,” Morgan said.

Everyone turned and looked to see Morgan sitting on a step stool, eating a purple popsicle.

“Is that so?” Rhodey asked her.

She nodded vigorously. “And Peter looks at the wizard the way Mommy looks at Daddy.”

“And that’s love?” Kate asked her, amused.

Morgan gave her an unimpressed look that for a minute, made it very obvious she was her parents’ child. “Duh.”

“Where _are_ your parents?” Scott asked.

"Daddy’s with Harley in the labs and Mommy is still with Cassie at the pool.

“And you figured you’d take the opportunity to steal a popsicle?” Sam asked.

“It’s not stealing if you own it,” Morgan said.

Sam laughed and shook his head. “The world better hope you never turn evil, Kiddo. You’d take over without any sort of problem.”

“That’s what Daddy says,” Morgan told them. “But unlike you, when he says it, he looks proud.”

“Hey PRISMA?”

_How can I be of assistance, Captain Wilson?_

“Can you let Stark and Harley know that it’s time to start cooking?”

_Of course._

“That’s our girl,” Sam said fondly.

“Who’s going to tell Strange and Peter?” Barnes asked. “Not you,” he said instantly when Kate opened her mouth to volunteer.

While Kate pouted, Sam shook his head. “I’ll go get them,” he said. “Just don’t y’all kill each other while I’m gone.”

Tempting as it was to lock themselves in the Mirror Dimension and carry on, they refrained. “We have tonight,” Stephen reminded Peter.

“Some post-game action?”

He groaned. “That is about the unsexiest way of putting it I can think of.”

“That’s probably a good thing, considering,” Peter said, pecking him on the lips and pulling back before the temptation to deepen the kiss overwhelmed him.

“Probably,” he admitted.

“We should also probably get back to the others,” Peter suggested.

They stood, forced themselves into some semblance of order, and started a leisurely walk back. By Stephen’s estimate it was nearly 5pm, and he imagined preparation for dinner - if not actual cooking - would be going on. Then there would be the time to kill before they all went to the fireworks show Tony had scheduled.

“I hope they’re not expecting me to help cook,” Stephen mused.

“They’re not,” Peter assured him. “I warned them.”

“How sweet.”

“I feel like we should have brought something, though,” Peter said.

“I have something, it’s just a matter of popping over and getting it.”

Peter looked at him, skeptical. “Really?”

“Yes,” Stephen said. “I’m not a great cook, but I told you that there are some things I _can_ make. Even without stopping time to get it right.”

“If you say so,” Peter teased. “What is it?”

“Cranberry-apple salad.”

Peter wrinkled his nose.

“That was rude,” Stephen scolded. “You haven’t even tried it yet.”

Peter shook his head. “Cranberries don’t go in salads. Craisins, yes. Cranberries, no. Apples, sometimes. And definitely not together.”

“It’s not actually a salad,” he said. “It’s just called that.”

“Why?” Peter asked.

“Because it’s the Midwest,” Stephen said. “It’s just what we do.”

Peter laughed as they drew nearer to the pool at the main building. “Like the four bottles of ranch dressing you have in the kitchen?”

“Yes.” Stephen answered, just a bit testy.

Peter just continued to laugh and Stephen himself couldn’t help but smile.

They came across Sam who was walking their way and he walked Peter back while Stephen popped home to retrieve his dish.

Dinner was enjoyable with all of them gathered. Sharon had again grilled perfect burgers, along with chicken kabobs and the best steak Stephen had had in years. Sam made both potato salad and macaroni and cheese. Scott and Hope had brought fruit trays with dip which were joined by the vegetables Barnes had chopped earlier. Ava had cooked up baked beans and Rhodey had been allotted one of the grills so he could grill some corn on the cob and vegetable skewers. Despite the weird looks, everyone tried and seemed to like the dish Stephen brought. Tony and Pepper’s contribution included an elaborate selection of alcohol for the adults and whatever juice or soda the children could want. (“For this one thing, Pete,” Tony said. “That includes you, too.”) Kate, it turned out, had actually been awake earlier than they’d all thought and had baked cupcakes in her suite, decorating them with some festive frosting and sprinkles.

“These are so good!” Pepper told her.

“Thanks!” Kate said. “I spent a lot of time with our cook when I was growing up. He taught me how to bake.”

“Is there a reason why you split them into cupcakes for the kids and cupcakes for the adults?” Sam asked her.

“Oh, the cupcakes for the adults have rum in the frosting,” Kate said.

“And was it cooked in or-”

“No, I just poured it in and gave it a good mix.”

Stephen looked sharply at Peter, who’d been reaching for a cupcake marked for the adults. “You get _one_.”

Peter shrugged and snagged a cupcake. “Works for me.”

“Any other rules for him, Doc?” Kate asked, amused.

“None that anyone here should concern themselves with,” he answered.

Peter laughed at the pinched expressions many of them had at Stephen’s words. He bumped his shoulder into Stephen’s arm and looked up at him with bright eyes. “Do you mean the secret penguin rules?”

Stephen nodded solemnly, playing along. “The secret penguin rules.”

“What the hell are the secret penguin rules?” Harley asked. He looked relaxed lounging back in his chair, beer in hand.

“If we told you, then they wouldn’t be very secret, now would they?” Stephen said dryly.

Harley rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Sucks you can’t drink, Pete. You should be what, like 21? 22?”

“22,” Peter answered. “It’s not that big of a deal, I guess.”

“My sister’s been pretty upset about it,” Harley said. “We lost her in the Snap, and she should be almost 18 now. Instead she’s stuck back at 13.”

“I’ll bet your mother’s happy,” Scott said. “She probably thought she’d never get to see her daughter go to high school or learn to drive or anything ever again. Now she gets to.”

“I guess,” Harley allowed. Stephen supposed that he, like most people, tried not to think too hard about the realities of the Snap and the time following, and then the Blip. He couldn't blame him.

“Still sucks though,” Peter said. “It made finishing high school really weird.”

Harley laughed. “I can imagine!”

Tony brought in a small number of the Iron Legion to clean up so they could enjoy their evening until it was time for fireworks. Morgan and Cassie had cornered Harley, and everyone laughed as he was roped into helping the two of them return and organize Morgan’s pool toys to the pool house because “we’re supposed to have adult supervision and you like to mention that you’re an adult."

There wasn’t too much activity as they waited for night to fall. Sharon was all settled in to sharpen her knives - and whether they were for kitchen or professional use, Stephen wasn’t sure - before Scott suggested that maybe they could have an evening without weapons. “What do you suggest?” she asked. “Cards?”

“Oh, sure!” he agreed. “I haven’t really had a chance to play since I was in prison. We played a _lot_ of cards.”

“Count me in,” Sam said. “I haven’t played since before I got out.”

“Anyone else in?” Scott asked.

“I’ll play,” May said. “It hasn’t been as long for me, but I’m in.”

Sharon seemed to consider the crowd. “Fine.” She slipped her knives into holsters most of them had _definitely_ not noticed she had. “On your own head.”

Watching them became more entertaining than Stephen had expected. He wasn’t much for cards, or gaming in general. _Yeah, you want me to screw up my perfect record? Definitely not._ He might have had a slight control problem.

As far as the game went, it was pretty evenly matched, he learned. Sam was out of practice but had a completely blank face. Scott had obviously learned to play in the cut-throat prison environment. Sharon had been taught how to play by an allegedly unbeatable lady named Agent Hand while in SHIELD and had quite the game face herself. And May played frequently with her coworkers whenever there was quiet time on their shifts.

The trash talking, however, was the best part.

“What the hell!” Sharon exclaimed, outraged when Sam played a card that kept her from playing one of her own. “I almost had it!”

“And I wasn’t about to risk losing to you!” Sam defended.

Faster than anyone could blink, she’d pulled out one of her knives and pointed it at him. “I know where you sleep.” She slowly put her knife back.

“Look at how many cards we all have. No one ever won with more than one card, Share.”

“And you’re never going to win if I have anything to say about it,” she muttered.

“So… can I play my card now?” Scott asked.

Sharon motioned him on, staring darkly at her hand.

“I love this game,” May said, playing a card that forced Sam to skip his turn (“Oh, come on!”). “It really brings out the best in people.”

“I never thought Uno would be a game I’d have to consider banning from the compound,” Tony said. He looked at Pepper. “Please tell me you haven’t taught Morgan how to play.”

“I’m not ready to crush her spirit quite yet,” Pepper assured him. “Give it another year or two.”

“Sounds about right.”

“I thought the game for that was Monopoly?” Ava asked.

“Oh, no,” Pepper said. “Morgan knows how to play that already, and she’s good. That game is for teaching that the world isn’t fair. Uno is for teaching that no one can be trusted.”

“I suppose my handlers were slacking, then,” Ava said. “Neither game was on my training regime.”

Stephen couldn’t help but laugh.

Eventually Harley returned with Morgan and Cassie. Before he could rejoin the adults, however, Morgan asked him if he would teach her how to play Monopoly. “Cassie, too,” she added.

“Oh, that’s a bad move,” Pepper whispered when he agreed. “He’s in for it now.”

“I thought she already-” Stephen started.

“She does. She’s just working him.”

“Up and down,” Hope said, watching as he settled down and they selected their pieces. “Oh, this is going to be painful.”

“For him,” Kate said. “I remember my first hustle,” she added fondly.

By the time they were supposed to make their way to the place they’d watch the fireworks, Stephen had half a mind to put Morgan H. Stark on the Sanctum’s List of Threats to Earth and its Reality. In less than an hour she’d managed to take Harley for everything he had and turn Cassie into a near-millionaire in fake money. On the other front, he wasn’t sure if Sharon, Sam, and Scott would be able to work together in the field ever again due to all the backstabbing and triple crossing, while May was unconcerned with how upset the others were at her winning most of the games.

“Are you alright?” Stephen asked Peter. They were trailing behind the others as they walked across the compound. “You’ve been quiet since dinner.”

“I’m okay,” Peter said. “It’s just been a lot, with everyone here. I like seeing everybody and it’s been fun, but I almost wish it was just me and you, you know?”

Stephen took Peter’s hand, laced their fingers. “I know. But I’ve enjoyed myself. I wasn’t much for keeping company in my past life and I’m not exactly social now, but this has been nice. Especially because of you.”

“We could skip the show,” Peter mumbled.

“If that’s what you really want, sure,” Stephen agreed. “But I don’t think it is.”

“No,” Peter admitted. “No, I guess not. But time with you? Just you? Yes.”

“Then for now, let’s enjoy the show.”

“And after these inconvenient fireworks, it’ll be just you and me?”

Stephen cocked his head as something flashed in his mind. _Stray Italian Greyhound, Vienna Teng, Inland Territory, 2009._ “Not my favorite album of hers, but it’s solid.”

“What?” Peter asked.

“There’s a song,” he said. “It has a line about inconvenient fireworks.”

Peter still looked confused.

“Eidetic memory,” Stephen reminded him. “It just happens.”

Peter’s expression turned amused. “It’s a good thing all penguins are valid,” he teased. “Because you’re such a dork.”

“Now, now,” Stephen returned. “Secret penguin rules, remember?”

Peter laughed. “They were so confused!”

“Hurry it up!” Kate yelled back at them.

“She’s such a quiet person,” Peter said lightly. “Very reserved.”

“And so calm,” Stephen added. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

The set-up for the show was spectacular, he had to admit. (Granted, Stark’s money would obviously buy the very best.)

He’d known the compound itself was huge and that Stark owned the property around it for a few hundred miles, but he was still taken aback at the vastness of it all when they finally settled into their seats nearly half an hour later. They were seated just at the lake’s edge and the fireworks were to be set off on the other side. Not only did they get to see them in the sky, but also the reflection in the lake, if they so chose.

There were several chairs and chaise lounges set up for them to pick and choose from. Stephen could have conjured his own but sat in an offered chair. Peter decided to forego a chair and settled himself on the ground between Stephen’s legs, his head resting against Stephen’s knee. “Are you sure you’ll be comfortable down there?”

“Yep!”

“I can’t decide if that’s adorable or concerning,” Kate said as she sat sprawled in the chair next to Stephen, one leg slung over the arm.

“There’s a third option, you know,” said Harley, sitting on her other side.

“And what’s that?”

“Not thinking about it at all,” he said easily. “Keeps the brain from overtaxing itself.”

“Children,” Pepper warned before Kate could retort. She was curled up with Tony on a chaise lounge with Morgan on her lap.

Ava took the chair on Stephen’s other side and he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow when he saw Sam and Sharon sitting together on a blanket they’d spread out. Barnes sat in a chair; arms crossed next to Rhodey. Cassie had moved her small pink chair to sit next to May, while Scott and Hope had taken another one of the chaise lounges.

Their whispers and animated conversations trailed off in anticipation.

Then there was the tell-tale sound of something being launched and they looked up as one to see red and blue explode across the night sky in sparkling wonder, painting sizzling streaks of colored light on black.

“I love it when they sparkle!” Cassie said excitedly.

Another was launched and then another, green and gold and blue and purple. All with the booming sounds that sent the lake water rippling even as it captured the reflections. Some let loose with the shrieking whirls while others cracked so loud Stephen could notice when someone shifted slightly in their chair.

Some were sent up together, crissing and crossing and setting off various explosions of color as the embers from one would set off powder from another that would spark another in a seemingly never-ending dance.

Peter leaned his head heavily against Stephen’s knee and lifted a hand up. Stephen took it and squeezed, thumb rubbing circles over the smooth skin. Later, it would just be the two of them alone together, but for now, they were content to just watch in awe.

For nearly an hour the Compound and its residents and visitors were treated to a spectacle that lit up the sky and shook the trees around them. A similar spectacle had been made in that place the previous year, but there was nothing existence or annihilation about this night. There was no fighting, no armies, no one timeline to save them all. There was just a group of people - all broken and whole in their own ways and connected more than they could have imagined - watching sparkling, colorful wonder break open in the sky.

When the finale ended and the last spark had faded, Rhodey began clapping and even though there was no one on the other side of the lake to thank, the rest of them followed.

“It was sooo pretty!” Morgan said happily. Then she yawned and looked at her father. “I’m not tired,” she tried to say, talking through another great yawn.

“I know you’re not,” he agreed. “But I think some of the others are.” He looked at Stephen. “Mind zapping us back?”

Stephen couldn’t see why not. He pulled his sling ring out of his pocket and conjured a portal into the common area of the main building. He left the furniture on the lawn, since the Legion would retrieve and store it later. Sharon gathered up her blanket and went through first, followed by Barnes and Sam. Then Kate and Harley, Rhodey, May, and Cassie. Scott was given a gentle nudge through by Hope and Peter went in ahead of Pepper. Tony, carrying a sleeping Morgan, nodded at him and stepped through and then Stephen joined the rest of them, closing the portal.

“You’re welcome to stay for the night, of course,” Tony told May, Scott, Hope, and a yawning Cassie, handing Morgan off to Pepper. “Breakfast here is fantastic.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that,” May said. She looked at Stephen. “You two are going back to the Sanctum?”

Stephen glanced at Peter who nodded. “That was our plan. I’ll be more than happy to pop over tomorrow morning and take you home,” he offered.

“Great!” she said and hugged Peter. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” Harley added. “Maybe we can hang out tomorrow? Share stories about this old guy?” he thumbed at Tony, who gave a look of mock outrage.

Peter grinned. “Definitely. Good night!” Peter waved at the group who hadn’t drifted off to their suites and turned to Stephen. “Ready?”

“Thanks for the invitation again, Tony,” he said. And, conjuring another portal, went home with Peter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgan Stark is the single most precious thing to come out of ~~the fucked up disaster that was~~ Endgame and I would commit crimes against humanity for her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-4th activities are enjoyed. Stephen and Peter use their words. A lot of the team are subdued after such a fun day. Stephen has to practice some old skills. Tensions are resolved via lab bonding. And Dum-E and U get a nice little surprise, to the horror of everyone else.

**10.**

* * *

For all their talk of spending the rest of the night having sex - Peter fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow and Stephen wasn’t far behind. They’d had a long day, Stephen knew, and there would be plenty of time to indulge. Also, a tired Peter was a cranky Peter and he wasn’t yet ready to test if that was the sort of personality quirk that could be rectified by getting thoroughly fucked. 

They slept through the night, content.

Stephen woke to the feeling of something hot and wet around his cock. With bleary eyes he looked down and saw Peter suckling on his cock. His eyes were bright, and his lips were red as he continued to taste his prize.

He barely kept his hands from further mussing Peter’s hair and directing his movement. Instead, he gripped the sheets and moaned. For not having much practice, Peter wasn’t far off from undoing him completely.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he praised. He unconsciously rolled his hips. “So perfect like you stepped out of a dream.”

Peter’s attentions slowed and, looking up and making eye contact with him, took Stephen’s hands and guided them to his head.

Relieved, grateful, suddenly wide-awake - Stephen tangled his hands in Peter’s hair, gripping tightly. “You want me to use you?” He asked. “Want me to take what I want?”

Peter moaned around him and gave the slightest nod.

Stephen held Peter still as he rolled his hips harder, faster. It was heaven, Peter’s mouth around him, taking him, letting Stephen take what he wanted. He fucked into Peter’s mouth again and again, deeper, rougher, until he heard Peter gag.

He stopped, pulled out, heart seizing at the whine Peter let out. “It’s okay,” he promised. “I’m not done just yet, but I’m not going to make you choke on me.”

Peter, eyes wet now, looked up at him. “I don’t mind,” he said.

“ _I_ do,” Stephen said.

“I want to make you feel good,” Peter insisted.

“You do,” Stephen told him. “You make me feel incredible.”

“Then why can’t I-”

“I don’t like the sound of gagging,” he explained. “Never have.”

“So, it’s not because you don’t like-”

“Oh, no, I love it,” he assured him. “It’s the sound I can’t deal with.”

Peter looked speculative. “What if I hung my head off the side of the bed?”

That was all it took for Stephen to haul him up and kiss him. He held him close, hands roaming, groping, squeezing. He nipped down Peter’s chin and up his neck. He could just imagine what it would look like, Peter’s offer.

“Tempting,” he admitted, gently tugging at the lobe of Peter’s ear with his teeth. “Very tempting.”

“What will it take for you to give in?” Peter asked. His breathing was harsh, and Stephen could feel the sweat beading on the smooth chest his hands mapped out as if it would be the last time.

“Knowing that it’s something _you_ truly want,” he told him.

Peter drew back and looked at him steadily. His eyes weren’t any less alight with arousal, but they were sure. “I want it.”

He flung himself back, somehow managing to make the motion soft and graceful. His neck rested on the edge of the bed.

Stephen debated with himself briefly. In the end… he had to trust Peter. Had to trust that he knew what he wanted.

They laid tangled together, in the aftermath. 

Stephen had experienced the ecstasy of his cock deep in Peter’s throat. He’d seen the bulge his cock made as he gently rocked in and out. He’d felt Peter moan, whimper as best he could with his mouth full of _him_. He’d laced their fingers as he moved just a bit faster, just a bit harder before spilling down Peter’s throat with a strangled yell.

He pulled out carefully, well aware of how tender the channel would be after such use. Super healing or no, he didn’t want to brutalize him. Before he could pull fully free, however, Peter closed his lips around the cockhead and sucked gently, then kissed it and let him go.

He was so perfect.

“That was fun,” Peter said, voice raspy.

Stephen couldn’t help but laugh. He was still laughing when he laid back down and Peter crawled up to throw and arm and leg over him. “I said fun, not funny,” Peter muttered.

“I’m not laughing at you. Just at how someone as perfect as you decided he wanted someone like me.”

“That _is_ funny,” Peter said. “But only because I wonder the same thing about you wanting me.”

“I suppose we just got lucky.”

He enjoyed the feeling of Peter snuggling into him. He also remembered that he’d not touched Peter and decided to fix that oversight.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered.

Peter shrugged against him. “Just make me feel good.”

“One of these days I’m going to ask you for what you want and I’m not going to do anything until you tell me in explicit, filthy detail,” he promised.

“Not today?” Peter teased.

“Nope, you said dealer’s choice,” Stephen said.

“So long as you-”

“Make you feel good, I know.”

He reached over to grab the bottle of lube on his nightstand. It wasn’t anything special, not like the cooling kind he’d sent to Peter. But it was handy, and Stephen intended to make Peter feel very good indeed.

He affected a somewhat distant look as he slicked his fingers and began teasing Peter’s rim. In his arms, Peter began to squirm; so sensitive, his Peter. When he’d worked in another finger - the first hard-fought - he brought his other hand over to wrap around Peter’s cock.

“Ste- oh my god, Ste _phen_ ,” Peter moaned out. “More?”

“Patience,” he said. “I’ll get you there.”

He took his time, both to preserve the strength of his hands and for his own pleasure. He enjoyed rubbing small, firm circles on Peter’s prostate, working him up and up and up only to stop and squeeze the base of his cock tightly before Peter could tip over. When Peter whined, he chuckled. When Peter cursed at him, Stephen smacked his ass and warned him. “Behave or I’ll stop and make sure you’re left wanting for a week.”

Peter huffed and rolled his eyes. At that, Stephen gripped Peter’s chin and made sure their gazes met. “That’s not something I’d continue doing, if I were you,” he said.

Peter frowned. “The cussing?”

“The eye-rolling,” Stephen said.

“It’s just a habit,” Peter said dismissively.

“Find a better one.”

“You’re so bossy,” Peter said with a pout.

He felt the corner of his mouth lift. “You know this.” Leaning down, he nipped at Peter’s lower lip. “I’ve never hidden it.”

“Right. Are you ever going to get me off or do I have to go to Compound with blue balls?” Peter asked.

“One, those aren’t a thing.” He let his hand resume its grip on Peter’s cock, which was now leaking a beautiful bit of pre-come. “And two, you asked for it.”

He swallowed down the loud moan-turned-yelp Peter let out when Stephen pressed his thumb - hard - into Peter’s perineum while at the same time stroking the inside against sensitive gland he’d been teasing. He started working Peter’s cock again in firm, twisting stokes, satisfied to feel Peter canting his hips back and forth as if torn between what sensation he wanted more.

“That’s right… use one hand while you fuck yourself on my other,” Stephen said lowly. “You’re so needy for it, aren’t you?”

“Fuh- fuck, ye-, ohmygod!”

“Come on,” Stephen urged. “You’ve been impatient enough.”

On a moan, Peter’s whole body shuddered, and he came, spurts of white coating Stephen’s hand as it kept stroking.

“There you go,” Stephen said.

Then he began fingering Peter again.

"W-what?

“Maybe if I make you come again, you’ll have some patience next time.”

“Oh hell,” Peter groaned out. His body, so relaxed after his orgasm, went taut as he tried to process all of the sensation Stephen was creating in him, from him. All he could do in the end was cling to Stephen with teary eyes as he peaked again, and then again, and one last time as delicate fingers expertly played him.

Peter felt floaty and off, oddly satisfied but also wanting. He clutched Stephen tighter.

“Hey, hey there,” Stephen said, bringing the straw in a glass of water to his lips. “Drink, Darling.”

Peter did, long, deep pulls of cool water that helped with the floaty feeling.

“Are you okay?” Stephen asked. He pulled the water back, wanting to be sure that Peter wouldn’t drink too fast and make himself sick.

“Think so,” Peter said. “I feel good, but also kind of weird, I guess.”

“What do you need from me?”

“Hold me?”

“Of course.” He tightened his arms around Peter, kissed his temple, his forehead, even the sweaty curls at the top of his head. “Still with me?”

“Yeah, yeah ’m with you,” Peter said.

“Did I go too far?” Peter seemed more relaxed, more alert. And Stephen had to ask.

“What d’you mean?”

“Did I do anything you were uncomfortable with? Or just didn’t like?”

Peter considered. “I don’t think I like being told I have to change my habits. Not without a good reason. Not just because it’s something you don’t like that most other people are okay with.”

“That’s fair,” Stephen said. “You don’t have to change for me. I don’t want you to change, you’re pretty perfect as is.”

“Even if I roll my eyes at something you say?”

“Even if,” Stephen allowed. “I'll get over it and accept that it's just one of those things you do.”

“And something else,” Peter added. “I didn’t like when you said you’d leave me without for a while. I don’t want to have to rely on you to get off if I want.”

Also, another reasonable request. “Okay. Out of curiosity, can you tell me why?”

“It just, I don’t know, made me feel like I’m just some toy or something you could just pick up, play with, and toss away whenever you want. Like it wouldn’t matter what _I_ wanted.” He dropped his head back against Stephen’s arm. “I like a _lot_ of the other stuff. I like when you get a little stern and I think I might like that almost-but-not-quite thing you did. I really liked when you told me to fuck your hand and how needy I was.”

Stephen’s heart hurt at Peter’s sense of feeling like a toy, rather than the person Stephen cherished most. But part of that cherishing was being attendant to Peter’s thoughts and feelings - not brushing them off. The other things - his little brand of dominance (though he _wasn’t_ a Dominant and had little interest in that full lifestyle), the way he’d let himself actually speak to Peter the way he had… that he could work with.

“I’m sorry for just doing it without discussing anything first,” he said. “I don’t want you to ever feel bad about anything we do.”

He was upset with himself. They’d moved so fast, so soon. His worries about possibly coercing or taking advantage of Peter still fluttered around in his mind from time to time.

And in a few short weeks Peter would be away at college, living a very different life.

It could be eye-opening for him.

“You don’t have to sound so upset,” Peter said. “We’re fine, you and me. I suppose these are just things we’ll figure out together, right? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”

And there Peter went again, being the voice of reason.

“It is,” Stephen said. “As long as we keep being honest with each other, we’ll be great.”

Peter’s resulting grin was goofy. “What?”

“It’s just… I’m a scientist, right? And figuring things out and continuing to improve is what I’m supposed to do. I like that we’re both that way.”

“Nerd,” Stephen teased.

“You know this,” Peter answered back. “I’ve never hidden it.” He stretched as best he could while still entangled in Stephen’s arms. “So, showers and then breakfast at the Compound?”

“Works for me. I need to Portal your aunt home, too.”

“Stephen?”

“Yes?”

“That last orgasm was amazing.”

Okay. He smirked. He always was pleased to have his work appreciated.

The gathering at the Compound was much more subdued this time around. Stephen didn’t bother with arriving outside the gate, just brought himself and Peter straight into the common area. There was a loud groan when they appeared.

“Can you turn that down? Some of us celebrated freedom a little too hard.”

Stephen looked over to see one of the last people he expected - Sharon - sprawled on one of the many sofas, wearing dark sunglasses and some kind of green gunky facial mask. Her hair was pulled back into a loose, messy bun and in dark grey sweatpants and a ratty Duke t-shirt, it was the most unkempt and unaloof he’d ever seen her.

“Switching between tequila, beer, vodka, and wine will do that to you,” he said, not as sympathetic as he could have been. “Maybe if you hadn’t missed the birthday brunch at Rogers’ yesterday-”

She flung a pillow - he allowed it to hit him. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Every time I come here, it’s an absolute delight,” he said.

“Right,” Peter said, looking between Stephen and the miserable Sharon in amusement. “I want food. Like lots of eggs with runny yolks and really greasy bacon.”

Peter dodged the pillow she threw at him.

“Oh good!” Tony strolled in. “Mind fixing our resident ex-SHIELD agent? Share-Bear needs some care.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”. He looked at Sharon. “Up and at ‘em.”

“Don’t wanna.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “And you can’t make me.”

“Sharon,” he said, voice dangerously soft. “My very first shift at a hospital was in the ER on a Halloween that fell on a Saturday night. I promise I can make you, but I have the feeling you wouldn’t enjoy that experience. So instead, you’re going to get up, drink some water, and get something in your stomach that isn’t alcohol.” He stood over her. “Do those things, and I’ll get rid of your hangover.”

She pulled off her sunglasses to show bloodshot and bleary eyes. “Promise?”

“Yes.”

“There’s our compliant patient.”

Stephen even helped her stand up and stayed close to her as if to remind her as they went to the kitchen area that he could and would make a scene if she decided to suddenly be a difficult patient.

In the kitchen drinking coffee and looking fresh as a daisy (save for the multiple bandages as she’d had the day before), was Kate. Next to her were Rhodey and Sam, discussing what sounded like some kind of pilot testing. Scott, Hope, and Ava were sitting at the bar with coffee and donuts. Hope was the only one who seemed fully awake. Barnes was sitting off at a table by himself with a mountain of pancakes. Harley _had_ been with Pepper and Morgan at another table before he spotted Peter and jumped up.

“You made it!”

“Yeah,” Peter said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m always down for free food.”

“Who said anything about free?” Tony asked.

“Oh!” Peter looked sheepish. “I mean- I didn’t-”

“He’s just being a dick, don’t worry about him,” Harley advised, rolling his eyes and nodding his head towards Tony.

“Excuse me?”

Harley gave him an unimpressed look that was so reminiscent of both Pepper and Morgan that it was almost unreal. “You heard what I said.” He turned his attention back to Peter. So, we gonna share war stories about Mr. Genius here or what?"

“I don’t think I’m comfortable with this,” Tony said. He looked between Harley and Peter, whose eyes had been taken over with mischief.

“I’m pretty sure your comfort is the last thing on their minds,” Stephen said to Tony even as he directed Sharon to sit down.

“Well it should be,” the man retorted. “I saved the goddamned universe.”

“With just the smallest bit of help from the rest of us,” Stephen said. “But our contribution was minimal, really.”

“For sure,” Peter said. “It wasn’t like some of us played a giant game of keep away with the gauntlet.”

“I liked the part where Wanda scared him into destroying his own ships and armies,” Hope called.

“That was a pretty great part,” Scott said dreamily.

“Don’t forget our girl Danvers,” Sam said. “Dude gave her a solid headbutt and she didn’t even flinch.”

“My kind of woman,” Rhodey stated.

“Who is?” May asked as she walked in. She was freshly showered, with her damp hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was in yesterday’s clothes, but Stephen figured she’d change as soon as he took her home.

“Captain Marvel,” Peter answered.

“Oh, Carol!” May exclaimed. “I like her, she’s funny!”

“Funny wouldn’t be the first word I’d use to describe her, but go off, I guess,” Peter said.

“What word _would_ you use?” Kate asked, looking suspicious.

“Badass,” Peter said simply, to which Kate nodded approvingly.

“So… are we on or not?” Harley asked, reclaiming Peter’s attention.

Peter looked at May. “Are you good?”

She nodded. “I’ve already eaten. Mind sending me home?” She looked at Stephen.

“Of course.” Stephen put on his sling ring and conjured a portal to May and Peter’s apartment.

“It was lovely having you,” Pepper said, getting up quickly to hug her goodbye. “I'll clear a few hours from my schedule at SI so we can have a ladies’ afternoon.”

“Great!” May said. “And thanks for the invite.” She looked at Peter. “Be good.”

She went through the portal and after it closed, Stephen turned to see Peter already sitting down with Harley, a plate loaded with eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, and several slices of heavily buttered toast. He shook his head. Something really would need to be done about accommodating Peter’s metabolism.

“Eat up,” Tony told him. “Plenty of good stuff to have. Apparently Barnes is the magician when it comes to making pancakes.”

Kate had already brought Sharon food, and, seeing that it wasn’t anything that was going to make her hangover worse, Stephen decided he might as well. He brought his own plate of eggs, bacon, and potatoes, along with a bowl of fruit, and a mug of hot tea and joined Sharon.

“Need anything else?” he asked her.

“Coffee?” she asked hopefully.

He shook his head. “You need better hydration than that.”

“This fix of yours better be good,” she muttered, drinking from the glass of water he’d pushed closer to her.

“100%,” he assured her.

“At least the food is good,” she considered. “Not as much bacon as I’d like, but good.”

“You’re better off with blander foods,” Stephen said. “Stabilizes the blood sugar and doesn’t upset the stomach.”

“I haven’t had a hangover like that since Nat took me out to celebrate becoming a full agent,” Sharon said after a bit. She was looking more awake and much better… as far as he could tell, given she was still wearing the green gunk on her face.

“I didn’t get to meet her in this timeline,” Stephen said quietly.

“She was something else. I loved missions with her. It could be the simplest task and somehow she’d find a way to complicate it and have us running for our lives.” She smiled. “When I got pulled out of the field by Fury just to go undercover and babysit Rogers, I was _furious_. But Nat came over to my place that night and we ate ice cream and watched stupid movies. Later, she’d call after missions and give me the rundown, letting me live vicariously through her.”

“You knew her well?”

Sharon smiled wryly. “As well as anyone could know Nat. Sometimes I think even she didn’t really know herself.”

“And you still went drinking with her?” he teased.

“One of the biggest mistakes of my life. No one could out drink that woman.”

A thought struck him. “Have you heard from Fury?”

She quirked a brow. “Officially, no.”

He nodded. “That’s fair.”

They must have sat talking and eating for near an hour. Ava had joined them after a bit, bringing over a cup of tea for Sharon and a donut for them both. Nothing in particular was discussed, but a few stories were shared, like the most ridiculous way Sharon had had to make a getaway on a mission (pretending to be a participant of the hot air balloon festival in Switzerland), or how Ava had once gotten out of a punishment of writing lines because “I can’t exactly hold a pencil, now can I?” Stephen himself offered up a few redacted stories from his time in med school, including the first time he’d ever been dressed down by his attending.

Sometime during their conversation, Peter and Harley had disappeared somewhere. Stephen wasn’t too worried; Harley didn’t strike him as a threat and Peter’s senses would keep anything bad from happening. If anything, their time together might resolve the jealousy for other they each had bubbling underneath their skin. Or they could end up building a weapon of mass destruction. Or both.

“Gonna fix me up, Doc?” Sharon asked, interrupting his musings.

“I already did,” he told her. It was true, the water he’d pushed on her earlier had been spelled.

She frowned, then took a minute to assess herself, realize her head had stopped pounding and she didn’t feel like death. “Cool.”

“What insurance do you have?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

“The insurance where I don’t kick your ass.”

“Lucky for us my office decided to accept that this year. Great plan with excellent kickbacks.”

“Seriously, though, thanks,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Try not to need this procedure anytime soon.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I get kind of bratty when I’m hungover. You don’t need another one to deal with it.”

He didn’t say anything, merely inclined his head. She smirked. “I’m a spy, Doc. I’ve been reading body language since I was 8 years old and Fury stopped by at my Great Aunt’s birthday party and decided it would be a fun game to play. Looking at you, and looking at Peter, the two of you when you’re together… I know.”

“Not nearly as much as you think,” he said. And he’d keep it that way.

“Just enough to be dangerous.” Sharon shrugged. “I’m not going to say anything to anyone about it. Not my pig, not my farm.” She looked at Ava. “I need to go clean this mask of yours off my face, wanna come with?”

Ava nodded. “It was nice talking with you, Stephen.”

“Glad you got to see me.”

Several hours later found Stephen watching a marathon of _M*A*S*H*_ with Rhodey and Bucky (“In order to continue Old Timer’s intro to the world when he _wasn’t_ being brainwashed into killing,” per Rhodey.). Tony was in the area but focused on his tablet. It wasn’t _uncomfortable_ , exactly, but also not something Stephen would like to do on even a semi-regular basis.

Peter and Harley emerged from one of the labs, both smudged with liberal amounts of grease and dripping in sweat. They were laughing at something and for a moment, a very brief and yet millennia-long moment, Stephen was terrified that _something_ had happened. But at a second look, there was nothing even remotely sexual between them, just the aura of two young men too smart for their own good, with access to some of the most advanced and dangerous technology in the world, and the chaotic alignment most of their generation seemed to have.

He really was going to have to get his jealousy under control.

“Oh no,” Rhodey moaned, pausing the show. “He’s been corrupted.”

“Which one?” Barnes asked.

“Peter.”

“And this is bad?”

Rhodey shook his head. “It’s disastrous.”

“Please tell me that lab is still intact?” Tony begged them, finally looking up and seeing why Rhodey sounded so distraught.

Peter and Harley sobered up enough to share a look and then burst out laughing again.

“Hey, I have a question here!” Tony exclaimed.

“See?” Harley asked Peter through his laughter. “See what I mean?”

Peter nodded, unable to even catch his breath he was laughing so hard.

“No,” Tony said, looking panicked. “No, I don’t like this. This can’t be a thing; I’m putting my foot down. This will not be a thing, understand me, you two? This isn’t happening.”

“What’s not happening?” Peter asked, finally calm enough to be understandable. He was still grinning widely.

“You two, this mad scientist duo thing. It’s not happening. You’re not the Science Bros. That’s me and Brucie-Bear, okay? Trademarked, probably. You two aren’t allowed. It’s infringement.”

“Okay,” Harley said, giving Tony a thumbs up before breaking out into laughter again. Peter soon followed suit. “Whatever you say.”

“You two are _not_ allowed to gang up on me! There will be no alliances against me in my own labs!” Tony declared, looking back and forth between them.

“Sure,” Peter agreed through giggles. “Right.”

“Let it go, Tones,” Rhodey advised, looking grim. “You’ve lost this one.”

“My protégés are conspiring against me,” Tony whispered. “I should never have let them meet.”

“Too late now,” Barnes said.

Tony hung his head. “Are Dum-E and U at least intact?” he asked.

Peter and Harley straightened up almost immediately. “Of course!” Harley insisted. “We’d never do anything to them!”

“Not ever,” Peter added, looking a little hurt at the suggestion.

“We just gave them a little sister,” Harley said after a few moments of silence.

The blood drained from Tony’s face.

“We named her Kill-R,” Peter added happily. “She’s great!”

Tony sped away the common area, presumably to stop a killer robot.

“Kill-R?” Rhodey asked. “Really?”

Peter shrugged. “We just played around with an old Roomba.”

“Added some retractable knives,” Harley said.

“And some of Black Widow’s old Widow Bites.”

“The tranq darts.”

“A little flame thrower.”

“Why?” Barnes asked.

This time Harley shrugged. “We got bored.” Peter nodded his agreement.

“The two of you do realize that what you’ve built is technically a weapon,” Rhodey said. “Right?”

“I’d argue it’s actually a multi-purpose tool,” Harley disagreed.

“And to activate certain features you’d have to have the access codes,” Peter said.

Rhodey and Barnes looked at Stephen. “Anything you want to say on this?” Barnes asked him.

“Honestly it could be worse,” he said. He looked at Peter. “Try something like that in the Sanctum and I’ll let Wong deal with you.”

Peter grinned. “Fair enough.”

Rhodey tapped his watch. “Hey Tones, you still alive?”

PRISMA switched the screen they were watching TV on to a feed of the lab. Tony was in the lab, sitting on a stool and watching as Dum-E and U hovered around what had to be Kill-R. Dum-E was making beeping noises and Rhodey bit back his laughter.

“They’ve _bonded_ ,” Tony said, disgusted. “And when she’s not bumping up against them, she’s circling my stool.”

“Maybe she wants you to pet her,” Rhodey suggested.

“Tell her she’s a real doll,” Barnes suggested.

Tony looked up with narrowed eyes. “You’re all enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Words can’t even begin to describe it,” Rhodey said.

Off to the side, Peter and Harley high-fived.

“Just give her a chance Tony,” Harley said. “We think you’ll like her. The others already do.”

They watched as Kill-R bumped against Tony’s stool again and again. With a sigh, he hopped off and crouched down. “You like the lab, baby girl?” Kill-R spun around. “I do, too,” Tony said. “You’re going to have to help out, you know. Show the boys over there how it’s done.” More spinning. “Yeah, they’re a handful, but we’ll manage.”

Tony looked up a gain. “You better have put her specs into PRISMA’s systems,” he warned Peter and Harley.

“They’re there,” Peter assured him. “We’re not completely insane.”

“I don’t know,” Barnes said. “I think the jury is still out.”

All things considered, Stephen thought as he and Peter returned to the Sanctum that evening and ate dinner while watching a movie, the day could have gone worse. Peter and Harley could have added an arc reactor to the robot, thus ensuring it would probably outlive them all.

When, halfway through the movie, Peter’s phone started blowing up with messages from Tony, Sam, Rhodey, Harley, _and_ Pepper, Stephen groaned.

“We forgot to mention the arc reactor,” Peter said sheepishly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot more of the team again, because 1) I love writing it so so so much and 2) honestly I needed it for personal emotional reasons.
> 
> Also, Kill-R is a little Easter Egg from my other fic, [Back to Where You've Never Been](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19350814).


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer is almost at an end. As Peter's departure for college draws nearer, Stephen makes time for Kamar-Taj while Peter reunites with his closest friends. When returning to find that Peter is in distress, Stephen offers a unique way for Peter to share his thoughts. Opinions may be held, but can the usual rules really apply to Stephen and Peter?

**12.**

* * *

Peter seemed pretty cheerful in the following weeks.

His friends would be returning home soon - Ned from visiting his grandparents in Florida and MJ from her internship in D.C. Stephen could tell that Peter was getting restless, eager to see his friends in person after spending the summer apart and only connecting with texts and video calls. Stephen, for his part, was somewhat apprehensive.

Ned and MJ were two of the most important people in Peter’s life. He hadn’t asked Peter if they knew about him, trusting that Peter would let him know what he needed to know. They knew Peter was Spider-Man, and knew that Stephen was the “Doctor Strange” referred to in the papers and blogs.

“I want to tell them in person,” Peter said, when Stephen finally did ask if they knew. “And alone.” He looked at Stephen. “It’s nothing personal, just, it’s what my spider tingle is telling me to do.”

“They’re your friends,” Stephen said. “Do what you think is best.”

Like he had.

He’d told Wong about his relationship with Peter when he’d been at Kamar-Taj getting Wanda settled. He’d found himself nervous as he’d done so. Wong had seemingly sized him up.

_“Did you use the mystic arts to sway him?”_

_“No.”_

_“Then walk with him in peace.”_

_“That’s it?” Stephen had asked._

_Wong rolled his eyes. “We’re not monks, Stephen. No laws - legal or mystical - are being broken.”_

_“Alright then,” Stephen said awkwardly. Wong always had a way of putting him off guard. “Good talk.”_

“We’re meeting up for pizza and video games at Ned’s tomorrow,” Peter told him during another video call, when he’d gotten word that both MJ and Ned were back in Queens.

“I’ll be at Kamar-Taj for a few days, but if you need me for anything, reach out. You won’t be a bother.”

Peter nodded. “Sure. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

They ended their call and Stephen went through his usual routine of securing the Sanctum while he was away at Kamar-Taj.

He could have selected someone trusted from Kamar-Taj itself to watch over the Sanctum in his absence, but since Peter spent so much time there, whether Stephen was there or not, he didn’t want to risk making him uncomfortable by giving a virtual stranger free reign of the place. He spelled the doors of various rooms containing dangerous artifacts, relics, and flora shut. He put a stasis spell on the refrigerator and freezer to ensure nothing would spoil in his absence and that Peter, if he chose to visit, wouldn’t be burdened by trying to forage for food. He even finished his laundry, since the idea of having the launderers at Kamar-Taj do so never fully sat well with him.

Tasks complete, he went through the door connecting the Sanctum to Kamar-Taj. He made his way to his quarters and dropped off his bag. Thanks to the time difference, he arrived just in time to start observing morning sessions.

Wong was putting a group of Adepts through their paces in conjuring the Shield of the Seraphim. It was more advanced than the weapon conjuring another group of adepts were focusing on as Master Saenz instructed, as shielding had the tendency to be more difficult than attacking. He watched as the students tried over and over again. Some had limited success, with the Shield forming for mere seconds before vanishing. Others were noticeably upset as they couldn’t conjure it at all. And only a few were able to conjure and sustain the Shield for longer than thirty seconds.

“Master Strange,” Wong called as he noticed him. “Any observations?”

Stephen looked at the group who now stood at attention as if waiting an inspection. He would have told them to relax but he wasn’t about to undermine Wong’s authority. He considered.

“Violence is easy,” he said. “Weapons and aggression come to us easily, especially in the heat of the moment. The choice to shield is harder. It takes more thought, more care and concentration. More power of will. The Shield of the Seraphim in particular requires determination on the part of the sorcerer.”

“Why is that?” One of the Adepts asked.

“Because it requires vulnerability,” Stephen said with a small smile. “To shield you must refrain from attacking and leave yourself temporarily vulnerable. Once you accept that, the easier it gets.”

“Well said,” Wong noted. He looked at the group. “Again.”

They went through the exercise until all of them could conjure the shield and sustain it.

“Very good,” Stephen praised.

After dismissing the students and telling them to take a well-earned break, Wong came over to join him.

“How long will you be staying?”

“A few days at least, barring any emergencies.”

“That’s good. The students like seeing you. It’s good for you to interact with them.”

“That’s something I am _not_ used to hearing,” Stephen said, humor in his voice. “Most interns were terrified of me when I was in my residency. And as a surgeon. Must be the magic mushrooms that have mellowed me out.”

Wong snorted a laugh. “Say what you will, Stephen. This is where you were always meant to be.”

Stephen surveyed the students, some studying, some sitting around talking between lessons, some simply listening to music and enjoying their free day. He looked to Wong. “I think I’m starting to believe that.”

“How long before Peter leaves for school?” Wong asked over dinner.

Stephen pretended to count the days in his head, as if the time wasn’t seared into his brain in some sort of horrific countdown. “10 more days. He moves in on the 11th and starts classes on the 14th.”

“I’ll do my best to make sure things are covered here on the 7th,” Wong said.

“You don’t have to do that,” Stephen protested. “My relationship shouldn’t dictate my responsibilities here.”

“Stephen.” Wong looked softer than he’d seen him since right after the battle at the Compound. “You’ve been unhappy long enough. And, with Peter busy with college, you will have more time to spend here, if only to keep you from locking yourself away in the Sanctum and moping.”

“I don’t mope.”

“You mope, Stephen. I’ve seen it.”

“Oh, go back to your books.”

“The books have seen it, too.”

A couple of days later, the Sanctum was essentially how he’d left it, save for Peter’s laptop on the sofa and a pair of his new sneakers by the stairs. The kitchen sink had dirty dishes soaking. He couldn’t be annoyed, he knew the reasoning all too well - “I can’t wash this right now - it needs to soak.” (He’d been guilty of that more than once in his life.)

But he’d not seen Peter since he’d gone to Kamar-Taj - not even on a video call. He figured that Peter was busy running around with his friends - friends he hadn’t seen all summer. He couldn’t get upset over that, just because his own friend group was limited to Christine and Wong, probably Ava and Sam, and maybe, just maybe, Sharon on a good day.

He’d be seeing even less of Peter once college started for him. He needed to start making peace with that fact, should have _been_ making peace with that fact. Peter would be busy with school. Genius or not, Columbia wasn’t a walk in the park - Stephen knew from experience.

He went upstairs to see if Peter was napping. Stephen’s room was empty, the bed still perfectly made. He couldn’t see any traces of Peter in the room, either. Frowning, Stephen went to check the guest room he’d first put Peter in, that day after Stark had all but verbally torn Peter to shreds. He knocked, just in case. “Peter?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Peter said quietly.

“May I come in?”

“It’s your place,” Peter answered.

On a small sigh, Stephen opened the door.

Peter was sitting up on the bed, holding a pillow in his arms. He looked terrible. His hair was mussed and looked like it hadn’t been washed in a few days. His clothes were wrinkled far beyond what a day of activity would cause. Worst of all, Peter’s face was blotchy and still wet with some tears.

“Darling, what happened?”

“Why do want me?” Peter asked quietly. “Why me and not someone else?”

And Stephen knew exactly what must have happened.

“Oh, Peter,” he said. “I’m so sorry for whatever it was they said.”

“I don’t understand how they could- why they would even think-”

“What did they say, exactly?”

Peter shook his head. “They’re wrong. They have to be.”

“Will you show me?”

Peter looked at him curiously and wiped his eyes. “What do you mean, show?”

“Give me a minute.” Stephen left to retrieve what he sought.

He could have just made a portal, but he wanted the chance to compose himself. He was so _angry_ on Peter’s behalf that it nearly scared him. His heart hurt for Peter. And for himself. Peter hadn’t reached out like he’d asked, had hoped. Stephen needed to know more about just how Peter’s meeting with his friends had gone to be sure, but Peter’s doubt hurt. He could understand it, certainly. But he couldn’t deny that it hurt.

Shaking his head, he found what he needed. When he joined Peter back at his room, Peter was closing the door behind him. “Living room?” “If that’s where you’ll be most comfortable.”

Once they were seated, Stephen had showed him what he’d gone to retrieve. It was a small box made of dark purple amethyst that had been polished to a gleam. He opened up the box and Peter frowned.

“What are they?”

“These are the Memory Stones of Morntauk,” Stephen said, holding one of the smooth silvery stones up. It was roughly the size of a half-dollar coin and cool to the touch. “They’re used for sharing memories so that the people sharing don’t have to speak. It was written that Morntauk lost her tongue as a child and when she was older and versed in the mystic arts, created these as one of her ways of communicating.”

“Okay,” Peter said shakily. “She lost it metaphorically, or like, literally?”

“Honestly, it could easily be either.” Stephen shrugged. “It’s a translation of a translation of a translation.”

“So how do these work?” Peter picked up the other stone, rubbed his thumb over it.

“While holding the Stone, you concentrate on the memory you want to share. Once you’ve found it, we hold the stone between our palms and I’ll see what you saw.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not physically.”

Peter gave him a rueful look. “Just emotionally?”

“It’s merely an option,” Stephen reminded him. “We could simply talk.”

“If we do this, will you answer my question?”

“Why I want you?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll tell you even without doing this.”

Peter was looking at him, as if trying to sense something. “Okay.”

Stone hot between their palms, Stephen let himself sink into Peter’s memory. He became an extension of Peter, able to feel the emotions he’d experienced, understand and see the images and impressions he’d thought. It was a remarkably intimate bit of magic.

_Excitement coursed through Peter, manifesting itself in toe tapping as he sat on the subway. He couldn’t settle on a game to play on his phone, opening one, playing for maybe a minute or two, before closing the app and opening another. Rinse. Repeat._

_He’d missed his friends_ so much. _He understood why they’d been gone all summer - Ned had a large, sprawling extended family and they all met up every few years at Ned’s grandparents’ place in Florida. And MJ had secured a prestigious - paid, even! - internship with one of the top legal firms for environmental justice in D.C. She would have been a fool to not take it._

_He’d felt left out, left behind, especially with Ned’s decision to attend Cal Tech and MJ’s admission to Yale. They both had futures - bright ones! He, on the other web, couldn’t see much for himself outside of Spider-Man and eventually becoming an Avenger. He was glad he’d chosen to go to college after all, was happy he’d have that experience. But sometimes he didn’t see the point. His future seemed to be set._

_He couldn’t wait to hear all about their summers and tell them all - or the selected hits - about his. No worries, no cares, just Peter and Ned and MJ eating pizza, playing video games, and probably staying up until 4am. It was going to be great and the subway needed to hurry up_ now.

_After what seemed like ages, but was only the usual quick ride, Peter got off at his stop and made his way through the crowd and up to the street. Ned’s place was only a couple of blocks away and so long as he kept moving, he could tolerate the sweltering early August heat._

_MJ was already there when Peter arrived. He set his bag down as carelessly as he could manage without damaging his laptop and headset and embraced her in a fierce hug. “I missed you!” he said. “FaceTiming just isn’t the same!”_

_“I guess I missed you too,” she teased. “It was weird to not look over and see you and Ned huddled together discussing fan theories or freaking out over something. But D.C. had plenty of opportunity for people-watching.”_

_Ned came from the kitchen and handed Peter an orange soda and a grape one to MJ. He grinned at Peter as they did their handshake. “Good to see you! Florida babes are cool and all, but they’re not Spider-Man.”_

_"Implying of course that they_ are _better than Peter Parker," MJ added._

_“Right,” Peter joked. “Electro and other assorted bad peeps are way more fun to deal with than you guys.”_

_They all shared a laugh - though MJ and Ned’s were weaker than his - and then hunkered down in the family room, awaiting the delivery of the pizza MJ had ordered._

_MJ launched into telling them all about her summer. She had made a lot of valuable connections and told them about one of the firm’s junior partners who’d offered to be her mentor. “Seriously, Ms. Landry is the coolest. We’re going to set up mentoring sessions once I know my schedule for the year. Oh! And I met someone there. She and I agreed it would just be a summer fling but it was amazing.” She fairly glowed in a mix of pride, embarrassment, and happiness._

_“Awesome! I wasn’t the only one who got laid!” Ned exclaimed._

_“Ned Leeds, you player!” MJ teased. She’d left to get the pizza, and brought it back into the family room, where Ned had brought in paper plates and napkins._

_Ned looked away, bashful. “It wasn’t like that!” he insisted. "But it_ was _the kind of thing you wonder about, if summer flings actually happen. It was nice," he added dreamily._

_He told them all about his summer, how he’d spent nearly every day at the beach or going out deep-sea fishing with his uncles. Through bites of pizza with extra garlic sauce and jalepeños he told them about “my Lady Love” and the connection they’d had. He even showed them the traditional Leeds Family Photo, where they all wore coordinated outfits and posed just like his Great-Grandmother wished. She was so proud of her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, especially Ned as he was the only one who had graduated this year, he said. “It was great, you know? Like, the perfect send-off before starting this next phase of my life.”_

_MJ nodded sagely and Peter forced himself to do the same. He_ didn’t _know. His only remaining family was Aunt May. But this was about being happy for Ned._

_Pizzas devoured and numerous cans of soda drained, Ned and Peter turned their attentions to a new Avengers Tower LEGO set complete with a Quinjet for the landing pad. MJ pulled a notebook from her bag and began to sketch. “Alright Parker,” she said. “Your turn.”_

_Peter shrugged. “It was just summer, you know.”_

_Ned scoffed. "A summer as a_ Superhero _! C’mon man, you can tell us!_

_“I did the patrol thing a lot,” Peter said. “I started scaling it back though.”_

_“Why? You love being Spider-Man.” MJ’s brow was furrowed in suspicion._

_“Because after thinking about it, I decided that when I start at Columbia in like, two weeks, I want to focus on school more than the hero thing.”_

_A pillow collided with his face. He looked to MJ, who was grinning._

_"Yes! You_ are _going after all? That’s great, Man!" Ned cheered._

_“Yeah, I had some sense talked into me,” thinking of Stephen and almost smiling at how warm it made him feel._

_“What did the other Avengers say?” MJ asked._

_“They’re pretty cool with it. We’re gonna work out a schedule so I can train with them a few times a month. If something major pops up, they’ll call.”_

_"Are you ever going to_ not _go running when Tony Stark snaps his fingers?"_

_“MJ!” Ned hissed._

_“What?” She snarked at Ned before turning her attention back to Peter. “You’ve been at Stark’s beck and call for like three years now. And even though you want to go to school, you’re just going to bail when he calls?”_

_“I’m not some kind of stupid pet,” Peter said, hurt. "And it’s not him that would be calling me, it’s the_ team _.“ He glared at her. ”Saving the world instead of going to a lecture isn’t bailing."_

_To his surprise, MJ slowly smiled. “Our little boy is growing up!” She looked at Ned. “Aren’t you just so proud?”_

_Ned hung his head. “Do you always have to be so dramatic about it?”_

_She shrugged. “Probably not.” She looked back to Peter. “So, patrolling. What else?”_

_Peter told them about his summer, about his aunt taking him shopping for school and how his floor RA had reached out to him to see if he had any questions before he moved in. He kept his mentions of his time at the Compound with the Avengers to only the most positive highlights - such as meeting Ava and getting to know Kate, his senses telling him to tread carefully. He did spill about Tony, if only to tell them “So, he’s not treating me like a little kid anymore. We talked it out.”_

_“Good for you!” Ned praised._

_MJ agreed. “I’m glad you’ve finally seen the light.” He managed not to frown, but it was hard. MJ had very strong thoughts on the very capitalist Anthony E. Stark._

_There was a nice lull and they went back to talking about this and that._

_“Wait a minute,” Ned eventually said. “You didn’t tell us if you met anyone this summer.”_

_MJ looked up from her sketch. “He’s right. There’s no shame if you didn’t. You’ll meet plenty of people in college.”_

_Peter’s nerves were racing. His spider-senses were tingling; he could feel the hairs on his arms standing on end. This was it. “I uh, I’m actually seeing someone right now. I have been all summer.”_

_“Is it that Harley guy?” Ned asked._

_“No, but he’s pretty cool. We’re friends.” They’d actually been texting non-stop since the the day they’d created Kill-R. Harley had turned out to be hilarious and one of the few people around his age who actually understood the life Peter led._

_“Then who? Guy? Girl? Are they undecided?” MJ asked, waggling her brows._

_“Stephen,” Peter said. “His name’s Stephen.”_

_“Isn’t that kind of weird, dating someone who has the same name as someone on your team?” Ned asked after thinking about it for a moment._

_Peter didn’t say anything, trying to figure out just how to explain._

_“Wait a minute,” MJ said slowly, looking at him. "You’re seeing_ that _Stephen?"_

_“You’re dating Doctor Strange?” Ned asked, looking shocked._

_“Yeah,” Peter said, unable to stop his smile even with his senses warning him. “Since early June.”_

_“Tell me you’re joking,” MJ said. “Peter, he’s way too old for you!”_

_“It’s not that big of a deal,” Peter said._

_“Come on! He’s gotta be like, forty years old? That’s twenty-two years older than you! Why on earth would he want to date someone just out of high school?”_

_“He’s thirty-eight,” Peter corrected._

_“Because that makes it so much better,” she said sarcastically._

_“Come on,” Peter argued. “I thought you’d be happy for me, or at least not make such a big deal out of it.”_

_“What could you possibly have in common with him outside of the whole Avengers thing?”_

_“More than you think!” Peter bit out._

_“Peter,” Ned said quietly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Yeah, he’s cool, but you’re basically still a kid, and he’s not. It doesn’t look good.”_

_“I know you’ve been through a lot,” MJ said. “And so does Strange. This is what predators do, Peter. They take advantage of people younger than them. They don’t think it’s because someone’s ‘mature for their age,’ it’s because they’re easier to manipulate.”_

_“That’s not what Stephen’s doing!” He took a deep breath. “He said the same thing, about being worried that he was somehow taking advantage of me.”_

_“Because he’s manipulating you!” she insisted. “Look, think about it logically. He’s conventionally good-looking and basically a superhero - he should have people falling at his feet wanting to date him! But they’re not. The only person he can get is a barely legal kid who just graduated high school. That is beyond suspicious.”_

_“He’s not,” Peter said quietly. “You don’t know him.”_

_“We’re not trying to be mean,” Ned said. “We just don’t want to see you get hurt.”_

_"He’s never hurt me. He never_ would _hurt me._

_“Peter-”_

_“He makes me happy,” Peter said imploringly. “Happier than I’ve been in ages.”_

_“Are you sure it’s not just because he was giving you attention while you were alone this summer?” MJ asked._

_Peter just stared at his friends. “I’m not going to listen to this. A few people had some doubts, but they all came around. May, the Avengers, Harley - they’re all happy for me and Stephen.” He shook his head. “I’m leaving.”_

_“Peter, come on! Don’t be like that!” Ned called as he gathered his bag and rushed out._

_Everything hurt. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. They were supposed to be his_ friends _. They were supposed to understand._

_He went home - to the Sanctum. Was it crazy, that he thought of the Sanctum as home now? Was it just a sign that Stephen had manipulated him into always wanting to be around? Was there some spell at work, forcing him to be there?_

_Why him, he wondered. Why, out of all of the people in the world, was Peter the one Stephen wanted? Was it because he_ was _naïve?_

 _No, it couldn’t be that. Stephen_ cared _about him. He was always so patient and understanding. He’d made Peter a damn Spider-Man suit, one that couldn’t be taken away. He’d spent time with Peter, doing stuff that had to be boring for him. He never forced Peter into a specific way of thinking, just gave his thoughts and let Peter decide for himself._

_Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I want to make it clear that I love Ned and I love MJ. 
> 
> In this, a lot of their concern stems from actual interactions I've seen in fandom with their generation (Gen Z) and regarding relationships with age differences as well in 'the real world.'  
> MJ and Ned are rightfully concerned for their friend. They don't know Stephen and they don't know the other Avengers, but they do know that Peter Went Through Things™ and that Peter's been in his own head and that he was basically alone all summer. To them, Peter is acting off and from their limited point of view, that's on his life as a superhero.
> 
> All hope isn't lost, and I can't give too much away. Please just trust me?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look.
> 
> This one, as sweet as it is... it's also _**filthy**_.
> 
> I don't know how it happened, it just... did.
> 
> I'm either sorry or you're welcome. Please choose which one works best for you.

**12.**

* * *

  
Stephen slid out of Peter’s memories, head spinning.

The stone between their palms had turned ice cold and he carefully unlaced their fingers. His own were stiff and sending little spikes of pain up through his hand and arm. Even still, he held Peter’s hand, aching thumb rubbing soothing circles.

Peter let out a shaky breath, huddled into himself as best he could.

“Peter?”

He looked at Stephen, tears running down his face that he hastily wiped away. “Yeah?”

“Can I hold you?”

With a sob, Peter surged into Stephen’s arms, knocking them back so that they laid on the couch. He cried as Stephen held him, broke down like he’d been trying not to do since he’d seen his friends. For two days.

“It’s going to be okay,” Stephen said quietly when Peter eventually calmed down. “Whatever you need, all you have to do is ask.”

“Just tell me why?”

“It started when you saved my life,” he admitted. “I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t anything personal, that you would have done the same if I’d been anyone else. And that’s true. It’s who you are.”

“So, you feel like you owe me?”

“No, I said that it was when it started. When I looked through the timelines, you were in every one. I got to meet you, learn about you, be around you in millions of timelines where you weren’t one of the Snapped. I got to be present with you during your highs, your lows, all of it. You were always brave, always determined, always so brilliant and kind. There were some timelines when we pushed Thanos back for decades and went on to lead such beautiful lives together before he came back and ended everything. We lived millions of lives and I fell in love with you in almost every one.”

“But… but I’m not that person, I’m me,” Peter finally said, having considered Stephen’s words.

“You _are_ you,” Stephen agreed. “I worked very hard to remind myself of that when we returned. But in the times we met before that day on the roof when you asked me to take you home, you were brave, determined, brilliant, kind, and everything good in this world. You still are, Peter. You weren’t the first Peter that I fell in love with, but I do intend for you to be the last.”

Peter kissed him. “Love, huh?”

“It sure feels like it,” he said. “At least, all of the songs seem to make sense now.”

Peter smiled. “And you call me the nerd.”

“You _are_ a nerd. I’m just an egocentric music aficionado.”

They relaxed on the couch for a while. Peter didn’t have distress radiating from his very being any more, and Stephen felt surprisingly lighter, having admitted the way he felt.

“Stephen?”

“Hmm?”

“Does my age bother you?”

“If I were a better man, it probably would.” Peter elbowed him, but his glare held little heat. “But, it doesn’t.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m technically older than everyone we know. Probably even Thor.”

“How is that? You were looking on Titan for a while, but still-”

“Some of the time is from that, but not all. The rest is from something I did before I met you or any of the other Avengers.”

“Magic?”

“Unfortunately. Call it a hazard of protecting this reality,” he said. He still wasn’t ready to talk about that dark time, even if it had ultimately led to triumph. “People will look at the age difference and make their own conclusions. We can’t stop that. All we can do is ignore them and live our lives.”

Peter nodded. “Do you think it’ll be better once I’ve graduated college?”

“It’ll be easier, sure. But for the people who matter, it won’t matter. They’ll understand.”

“And if they don’t?” Peter asked quietly.

Stephen thought of Peter’s friends, of MJ’s anger and Ned’s distrust. He thought of the devastation he’d felt as Peter while sharing his memory of their judgement and insistence that he was a predator. And he thought of how happy he’d been since that day he’d brought Peter to his home.

“We’ll prove them wrong.”

They were feeling too comfortable doing nothing to worry about cooking, so Stephen simply ordered Chinese takeout. He heard the surprise in the lady’s voice when he asked for his and Wong’s usual order but doubled. “Yes, I know,” he told her in Mandarin, when she chided him and said that two people didn’t need that much food. “But there’s company.” She told him his order would be delivered within the hour and reminded him to enjoy himself. “I will.”

Peter was looking at him in fascination when he hung up. “You speak Chinese?”

“Just a little bit of Mandarin,” he said. “It drives Mrs. Yang nuts. She calls my accent garbage.” He smirked.

“You two know each other?”

“Yes. She’s a third-generation owner of the place, has three grown children and five grandchildren with one more on the way.”

Peter shook his head. “What did you order?”

“Kung pao chicken, sesame chicken, teriyaki beef skewers, egg rolls, egg drop soup, roast pork lo mein, white rice, and pan-seared dumplings.” Stephen smiled. “She told me Wong and I don’t need that much food when I told her to double it.”

Peter laughed. “I can’t believe she actually said that to you!”

“Mrs. Yang enjoys picking on me,” he said. “Just as I enjoy annoying her with my terrible Mandarin.”

“Hey Stephen?” Peter asked. They were waiting on the food and Stephen had grabbed a book to read while Peter played a game on his phone.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for not calling you, when this all happened.”

He set his book aside. “Why didn’t you?” The hurt was still there, yes, but he understood better, having seen and felt what Peter had gone through.

“I didn’t want to be a bother. I _know_ you’ve said that I’m not, but it’s hard to convince myself that I’m not.”

Stephen was quiet as he thought. “I trust you,” he said, finally. “I trust you to know what you want and that if I’m out of bounds, you’ll tell me. I need for you to trust me as well. I need you to trust that when I say how perfect you are, or that you’re not a burden, that I mean it.”

Peter nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Don’t worry too much about it,” he said. “Save that for something big, like the first time I forget to pretend that May’s walnut loaf is edible.”

Peter smirked. “She’s happy in her delusion.”

A ring of the doorbell had Cloak flying from wherever it had been residing and pointing at the door.

“It’s like having a dog,” Stephen muttered, getting up. “Thankfully without the barking.”

Peter's laughter could be heard even as Stephen paid and tipped the delivery man and accepted the bags of food. He could practically smell the MSG and his mouth nearly watered. He bid the man a good evening and motioned to Cloak to close the doors, which locked after shutting.

“Dinner,” he called to Peter, unnecessarily, as he strode to the kitchen.

Peter was already in the kitchen, setting plates on the table. Already out were glasses of ice, cans of soda, and forks, spoons, and chopsticks. He worked fast, Stephen thought.

“I’m hungry,” was all Peter said as he took a bag from Stephen and inhaled deeply.

Stephen grabbed a few large utensils to serve the food and told Peter to go ahead and sit. “Let me at least _pretend_ to be a gentleman,” he said as he spooned rice and chicken onto Peter’s plate.

“Yes, Doctor,” Peter teased.

“Keep that up and I won’t bother pretending,” he warned.

Peter grinned and popped his can of Pepsi open, started pouring. “Good.”

Stephen wasn’t surprised when it became apparent that there would be hardly any food left over once they’d finished dinner. Peter was eating with more than his usual fervor, obviously having not eaten much during the days Stephen had been gone. And, Stephen remembered, he’d only eaten a couple of slices of pizza at Ned’s place when he’d definitely needed the calories from a whole pie.

Was it weird, that he enjoyed providing food for Peter so much? He wasn’t sure, but he did enjoy it. He enjoyed knowing that Peter was being cared for. He enjoyed the satisfaction that came in knowing that he was the one providing and caring.

“Did you eat enough?” he asked, after seeing that Peter hadn’t gone back for fourth helpings.

Peter nodded happily, licking his fingers free of the sugar from the fried donuts Mrs. Yang had thrown in for free. “Yeah. It was really good! Definitely hit the spot.”

It certainly did.

“I’m glad.”

“Thanks for dinner, really.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Want me to do the dishes?” Peter asked.

“Are you sure they don’t need to soak?” Stephen teased.

Peter gasped in mock offense. “I was in _crisis_!”

“Go ahead and do the dishes then, since you’re no longer ‘in crisis’,” he said. Then he smirked. “Finish quickly enough, and you can join me in the shower.”

Peter’s cheeks went rosy pink and his mouth dropped open. “Y-yeah. Sure,” he managed. “I’ll be up in a flash!”

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

Stephen was just rinsing his hair when Peter flew into the bathroom, half-undressed.

“I hope you haven’t left a trail of clothes all over the place,” he said sternly, as he looked out from behind the fogged glass door.

“Nope, just in a pile by the bed,” Peter said, shucking his pants and boxers and then dancing around gracelessly as he pulled off his socks one at a time. “And now in here.”

Fully naked - already erect - Peter joined him under the hot spray. He let out a low moan as his body was pelted by the water and Stephen could see the tension starting to melt away. He turned Peter around to face him and bent to capture those beautiful lips with his own.

Peter leaned into his kiss, arms wrapping around him and gasping as he felt Stephen’s erection against his middle. He surged into Stephen, mouth opening so that Stephen could take more, wanting Stephen to take more. “Please,” he murmured when Stephen broke the kiss for the briefest of moments so he could push him back against the wall of the shower.

“Tell me what you want,” Stephen urged. “I’ll give you whatever you want, all you have to do is ask.”

“Want you,” Peter said. “I want to feel you.”

“You have me. You’re feeling me right now.”

Peter turned his face away, eyes clenched shut. “Stephen!”

“Tell me, Peter. You’re so perfect when you tell me,” he encouraged.

Peter seemed to be waging some kind of internal war. In the meantime, Stephen let his hands roam, feeling Peter, his lithe muscles under perfect wet skin. So much strength and power in such a perfect, unassuming form.

“Tell me, Peter,” he said again. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

To his surprise, Peter leaned up and kissed him. When he pulled back, he slicked his wet hair back out of his face and looked at Stephen, fire in his eyes.

“I want to finish our shower and then I want you to throw me on the bed and fuck me until I cry and then use me even harder.” He kissed Stephen again. “I want you _own_ me and make me forget I ever had any doubt.”

Stephen’s cock twitched as heat pooled low in his gut. He’d wanted Peter to tell him… and hell, had Peter told him!

“Whatever you want,” he promised, kissing him. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

He couldn’t resist drawing the shower out, however. Peter was so gorgeous when he was frustrated, so beautiful when he begged Stephen to hurry. He washed Peter gently, sliding his hands all over the marvelous body in front of him and ensuring the soap covered every inch. He took particular delight in soaping the eager cock and between the creamy cheeks of his backside.

“I think I’m clean now,” Peter said, when Stephen’s soapy fingers again brushed over his nipples.

“I just like to be sure.”

“Right,” was the skeptical reply.

He pinched a nipple in response, delighted with the loud moan it prompted. “Be good,” he chided playfully. “I know you can be good for me.”

“Mmm, yeah. I’ll be good.”

“Yes, you will.”

Peter’s knees buckled and Stephen was quick to catch him. He turned so that the hot water could rinse Peter off and once that was finished, walked Peter out of the shower. He was practically vibrating in anticipation as Stephen toweled him dry, mouthing what looked like ‘come on come on come on’ over and over. He debated on taking his time drying himself off, used magic instead.

When Peter turned to walk to the bedroom, Stephen stopped him. With a smirk at Peter’s annoyed expression, he scooped him up and strode that way. Before Peter could ask what he was about, Stephen tossed him onto the bed.

“It’s what you asked for.”

Peter lay back and spread his legs.

“You want me to fuck you until you cry, hmm?”

Peter nodded eagerly.

With a wave of Stephen’s hand, Peter was flipped over with his hands bound in front of him. Getting on the bed behind him, Stephen used a knee to spread Peter’s legs apart. Peter seemed to take the hint and brought his knees up, making a gorgeous picture for Stephen to admire.

“So perfect,” he murmured. “So absolutely perfect.” He couldn’t help but reach out to cup and squeeze Peter’s ass. “And all mine.”

“Then do something about it,” Peter begged. “Please.”

An impulse struck him. He spread Peter’s cheeks apart, revealing the pink, puckered hole, and spit. He could hardly believe himself. He’d never done it before. But he liked it, liked the sight of something so base on someone as perfect as Peter. And, judging by the whimper Peter let out, so did he.

He rubbed the saliva around, teasing the tight rim with his thumb even as he continued massaging Peter’s ass. He could spend hours doing this. His hands would ache like a bitch, but Vishanti it would be worth it.

He summoned a bottle of lube - one that didn’t snap open but had to be unscrewed - from his nightstand and gave it to Peter. Still positioned like some animal in heat presenting and hands still bound, Peter looked back at him, confused.

“Open it.”

“Um,” Peter said shakily. “It’s going to be tricky with me like this.”

“I know.”

Peter swallowed heavily and nodded. Stephen watched with delight, enjoying the show of Peter struggling to unscrew the cap of the bottle. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, ran them up and down the smooth and muscled length of Peter’s back. Gave his beautiful backside a few jolting smacks. Gave his perfect cock the barest of strokes.

When Peter managed to get the cap off, he held both up as best he could, and Stephen could see the triumph on his flushed face. In an instant the he had both bottle and cap and set them aside in favor of caressing Peter’s face. “So perfect.” He pulled Peter up by the hair and leaned to kiss him. “Perfect, Precious Peter.”

“Stephen,” Peter whined, turning his head.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” He pulled back and kissed him again. “You’re perfect.” With a playful nip of Peter’s lip, he pushed him down and leaned back. “And mine.”

“Yes.”

He probably could have taken much, much longer stretching Peter, but his own erection was insistent, and he felt as if it had been years since he’d had him. And Peter had made a very specific request. He was happy to fulfill it.

Lube was added to the drying saliva and when the tight rim was starting to loosen, he couldn’t help but spit _in_ Peter.

“Oh fuck,” Peter whined. “Oh fuck, please, do that again.”

Nothing if not a giver, Stephen did and used a finger to push it deeper into the tight passage. He teased the rim some more, spit, teased more. Peter’s moans and gasps were so satisfying.

Peter must have heard the crinkle of foil - spider-senses - because he looked back at Stephen. “Can we go without? Please? I want to feel you.” His eyes were bright, and he already looked half-way wrecked.

Stephen tossed the package aside. “The things I do for you,” he teased.

Peter’s smile was more than worth the eventual mess.

Stephen slicked his cock, stroking himself a few times while Peter watched, mouth open. “You do the most amazing things for my ego,” he told him.

“It’s not my fault you’re so big,” Peter said. “Or that it feels so good when you make me take it.”

_Fuck._

“Just my very fortunate luck.” 

He settled the head of his cock at Peter’s rim, let it rest there. Peter wriggled, tried to push back. Stephen’s hands stilled him.

“Come on,” Peter urged. “Fuck me, please! Put it in!”

He pushed in, let his cockhead be swallowed by the tight rim of muscle. “It’s in.”

Peter groaned. “You said you’d give me what I wanted!”

Stephen pulled out, added more lube just to be sure he’d have a smooth glide, lined back up, and slammed in. The power of it forced a yell out of Peter. “I did, didn’t I?”

He let himself enjoy the tight heat for a moment. Feel the muscles squeezing around him, powerless against his intrusion. He ground against Peter, hands gripping his hips tightly, fingers splayed and possessive.

“You have no idea how perfect you feel when you take me,” he praised. “Hot, so tight, all mine.”

“You don’t know how good _you_ feel,” Peter managed. “Fuck, so big, like I can feel you everywhere.”

“You’ll feel more of me, don’t worry.”

He began to thrust in and out, long, deep motions that drew low moans from Peter as he felt every inch of him pressing in, retreating. Peter’s hands gripped the sheets in front of him and moved just enough so that Stephen slipped in deeper. “Oh!” He gasped out. “More!”

Stephen’s thrusts were harder, if not faster. He enjoyed the sounds Peter made as he slammed in as deep as possible and rolled his hips before pulling out slowly too much to switch it up right away. He angled his next thrust just a bit and Peter wailed.

“There you are,” he drawled. “Let’s try that again, hmm?”

He did it again and again, Peter crying out each time as his prostate was stroked. He was gripping the sheets so tightly his fingers were white, and when Peter let out a howl and bit a fold of the sheets, Stephen knew he had him.

“Don’t hide those noises from me,” he ordered. He pulled Peter’s head up by the hair. “They’re mine and I want to hear them.”

“I want to see you,” Peter said breathlessly. “I need to see you and you can have them.”

He stilled. “Whatever you want.”

Peter’s hands were freed, and he turned over after Stephen pulled out. He was pink and red with arousal and exertion, hair a damp mess and eyes beautifully bright. His cock stood ready for any and all attention Stephen might give it.

“I like seeing you.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Stephen said as he slid back in and Peter’s legs instantly wrapped tightly around him.

“You’re pretty good looking yourself,” Peter informed him, eyes shut as Stephen hit _that_ spot again. “Among other- oh _fuck_!”

Stephen smirked as he began to stroke Peter’s cock in time with his thrusts. He kept his pace deep and long and with every brush against Peter’s prostate his lover moaned. He moved one of Peter’s legs up to drape over his shoulder, delighted with the loud cry that was wrenched from Peter as he slid even deeper.

Peter came with a ragged groan that pitched higher when Stephen continued to stroke him through and after his orgasm. “Stephen!”

“You wanted me to make you cry, remember?” Stephen murmured against his ear. “I’m going to.”

Another idea he’d never had before struck him. He used Peter’s spend to write his own initials on the perfect chest below him. _D. S. V. S._

“Oh my god, have you always been so dirty?” Peter asked him, voice breathy as Stephen’s thrusting hadn’t stopped.

“Honestly? No.” He admired his ‘branding’ on Peter’s chest. “You inspire things in me, and I can’t even begin to explain why.” He pressed his semen-sticky fingers to Peter’s mouth, delighted when he opened and began sucking them clean. “But I’m so happy that you do.”

“I-I like it,” Peter told him. He laid back, letting himself be ruled by the sensations Stephen was causing. “I’m the only one who gets to have this, and I like it.”

“That’s right,” Stephen said, angling his hips and brushing against Peter’s prostate again. “Only you, Peter. No one else.”

Between the strokes against his prostate and hand continuing to stroke his cock, Peter grew hard faster than he’d thought he would.

“Oh fuck!” Peter exclaimed, when Stephen moved his other leg to drape over his shoulder.

“Just relax and let yourself feel,” Stephen encouraged. “I’m nowhere close to being done with you.”

Stephen was true to his word. 

Over the course of the next hour or so, he dedicated himself to Peter’s pleasure, fucking and stroking him through two more orgasms. He seemed to have taken Peter’s request to heart, taking him farther than he’d previously dared. When Peter finally started to cry from the overstimulation, Stephen gave himself a minute to enjoy the beautiful picture he made before turning him over onto his front and sliding back in.

 _…then use me even harder. I want you to_ own _me and make me forget I ever had any doubt._

So he did.

He’d never been so rough, so demanding with a lover before in his life. He’d had his share of rough sex - the harsh realities of medical school and the high-pressure stakes as a surgeon all but required some form of release - but nothing so base and primal as giving Peter what he’d so confidently asked for.

“Any doubts now?” he whispered into Peter’s ear after the young man had wailed through another orgasm, one that had danced on the hair-thin line of pain and pleasure. “Any doubts as to who owns you? Who owns _me_?”

“No,” Peter managed weakly, body trembling beneath him. “Stephen it’s you. You and me.”

“That’s right,” Stephen told him, finally working towards his own release. “I’m yours and you’re mine.”

Caging Peter underneath him, he thrust recklessly. It was as if something had been lit inside of him and the only way he’d ever get any relief for the rest of his life was if he was deep, deep inside Peter when he let himself go. He would never get tired of this, would never tire of how hot and tight Peter was around him, even when they’d been fucking for ages.

“I-I can’t,” Peter moaned. “It’s too much - I ca-”

“You _can_ and you _will_ ,” Stephen all but snarled, snapping his hips harder and reaching down to grasp the erection that Peter couldn’t hide. “You’ll take me, Peter, you’ll take me in that tight little body of yours, feel me.”

With rough strokes of Stephen’s hand, Peter came again with a choked cry, only a small little dribble of come eking out of his tired erection.

Wrecked and crying, body alight with sensation and lighting-pin nerves, Peter could only say Stephen’s name, brokenly, over and over.

“So perfect,” Stephen told him. “Taking me so well, so perfect around my cock, Peter. Can’t wait to fill you up.”

“Please… Stephen, fill…” 

He came with a loud groan, driving deep into Peter and grinding his hips as he felt his release with every hard thrust. “Fuck,” he finally whispered harshly, when the aftershocks were _still_ racking over him. “Peter, love, fuck.”

Stephen collapsed on Peter for the briefest of moments before he had the presence of mind to roll them onto their sides. When he moved to pull out of Peter, his lover clenched around him and threw back a hand to keep him in place.

“Stay, please.”

“I don’t think I have the energy to even go anywhere, honestly.”

“Good,” Peter said through a long yawn. “We can just stay right here.”

Stephen kissed the bare shoulder in front of him. “Right here.”

They lay together for the longest time, still joined. Stephen thought Peter might have fallen asleep, if not for the way he kept nestling back into his chest.

“Still with me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Just basking in the afterglow.”

“I didn’t hurt you?”

He felt more than heard the snort of laughter Peter let out. “No, definitely not. You gave me exactly what I asked for and then some!”

“You have to tell me, if I ever hurt you.” He tightened his arm around Peter.

“You won’t,” Peter said. “But if hell does ever freeze over, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you.”

“Why are you so worried that you’ll hurt me?”

“Because I know the man I used to be,” he said. “I wasn’t a violent man, but I could be cruel and cold. I know I’ve changed, that I’m a different man, but sometimes I worry that the man I was isn’t entirely gone.”

Peter moved and Stephen felt the loss of Peter’s heat around his cock as he slipped out. Peter rolled over so that he could look at Stephen directly.

“You’re not a bad man,” he said seriously. “You have fuck-ups like everyone else, and maybe you were a dick before. But you’ve grown, right? Maybe stop hating yourself for what you used to do and focus on who you are now.”

Stephen smiled slightly. “You’re wise beyond your years, Peter.”

“Well, one of us has to be,” Peter teased. “I love you. It might be too soon to say it, but I love you.”

“I love you,” Stephen said. “I have no idea what I ever did to deserve you.”

“You saw me,” Peter said.

He pulled Peter closer, wrapped him against his body. Peter fit so perfectly next to him, like he was meant to fill the space. It felt like being home.

“How are we gonna deal when I’m off at college?” Peter asked after a bit.

“We’ll find a way. There are weekends we can schedule, and campus isn’t very far away from here. But,” he added seriously. “I don’t want you to miss out on what should be an amazing life experience just because of me. I want to be in your life, not rule it.”

“We’ll find a way,” Peter agreed. “We’ll figure it out.”


End file.
